Scars
by MandalorianHybrid
Summary: Tattoos can be the same as scars, remnants of a past. Sometimes they're good, worth remembering. Other times, they're nothing more than a haunting memory of a part of your life you'd rather forget. The story will be similar to the show in ways of language and sex. Bunker/OC.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey everyone. I hope you enjoy the story. It will center more around Bunker than the others, but will stick pretty close to the show. And the violence... language.. and sex, so it's real rating is MA. Let me know what you think!**

 **Chapter 1**

Bullets tore through the windows sending glass exploding inward. People screamed and ducked as they did their best to dive out of the way of the lead projectiles. Debris flew through the air and those within had to try and stay alive as the onslaught continued.

Just as quickly as it began, the shooting suddenly stopped. The silence was all consuming and deafening. They knew it would last only a moment before the bullets started all over again. Worse yet, they knew that if they moved, they'd be gunned down.

Hood was the only one brave enough to try. He raced for the entryway and laid down a few shots before slamming his elbow into an emergency button. Gates began to drop shielding every window and door, locking those armed outside and trapping everyone else inside. Soon, it became a matter of trying to see who was whole, and who wasn't.

The room suddenly went silent once again when a young man removed his shirt. Tattoos littered his skin, but it wasn't that he had ink that drew their eye and judgment, it was their topic. Swastikas and all other manner of Nazi propaganda filled his body to the point it was a bit obscene. He hadn't noticed their stares at first, but only at first. Poor thing tried to explain away the thousands of dollars and dozens of hours worth of bad decisions on his skin, but it truly didn't help.

"Never mind." He mumbled under his breath before disappearing somewhere to the back.

"Who the hell was that guy?" a young woman asked in disgust and shock. It was Alison Medding, a DA who worked for the mayor and happened to be one of the minorities that was the focus of the tattoos' hatred, though she was far from being the only one offended by them.

"I thought he came here with you?" Brock replied.

The police and officials began to ensure the civilians who'd been trapped inside with them were all right, safe and hopefully calm. Most were fine. No one cared about the prisoners, but not all of the prisoners were in the cells. A young woman was busy off to the side searching through desks and avoiding the crowd. She soon drew attention too.

"The hell are you doing?" Brock asked angrily.

She looked at him through her lashes, but didn't say anything as she pulled out something she needed. His brows came together as she revealed a paperclip was her supposed target. He opened his mouth to ask what the hell she'd need that for when he spotted the handcuffs clasped firmly around her wrists.

"Whoa!" he interjected when she began to fiddle with their locks. "I don't think so."

He jogged the short distance between them and snatched at her cuffs, gripping the small center chain securely and holding it so she had no choice but to stop.

"Does anybody know who this prisoner is?" he asked the room.

"Cora Roberts." Raven answered. He took a few steps closer so he didn't have to yell across the station. "Battery." Brock raised a brow. "She broke a guy's nose for grabbing her ass."

"Ah," he nodded.

Of all the things she could have been arrested for, defending herself was one of the charges he didn't mind. The Deputy was suddenly more at ease with releasing her than he had been a moment before. If she was something worse, he'd have tossed her into the cell with Procter, but was glad he didn't have to. He truly didn't want to lock anyone away right now that didn't have to be.

"Well," his free hand took his keys and began to turn back to her. "Looks like you're-"

Brock suddenly froze. Cora stared at him blankly as she twisted the paperclip one final time. The lock gave way with a soft click giving her the chance to jerk her last cuffed appendage free. The Deputy couldn't wipe the shock from his face. He hadn't felt her pick the locks at all, let alone free one of her wrists before he'd turned around.

With a curt and short smile, she stepped away leaving Brock holding the empty handcuffs and the bent paperclip still sticking out of the lock.

After a few moments of trying to settle their erratic thoughts, Hood told those who weren't police to head downstairs to the basement where the chance of stray bullets was supposed to be slimmer. He did his best to assume control in a chaotic situation. There were too many variables, too many things that could go wrong.

"You're hired." Hood said to the man with the racist ink.

"What? Hood…" Brock tried to defend.

"What about Mr. Procter?" one of the lawyers demanded.

"What about him?" Hood shot back in irritation.

"Are you going to let him out of that cell, or not?"

"Not." He said without hesitation.

"Keeping him in there is a violation of his civil liberties."

"Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy." He replied derisively. "Hey Starling, how about you make yourself useful? Bunker," the Nazi looked up. "Give him a gun."

Without question, he handed a loaded handgun to the lawyer. Starling stammered and back stepped. He held his hands up and claimed ignorance to weapons. Alison wasn't as tentative. She reached for it and wrapped her small hand around the butt without hesitation.

"Ma'am, that gun packs a mighty powerful kick." Brock warned.

"Are you going to stand there like a complete misogynist, or are you going to tell me how to shoot this thing?"

"Thank you for that… I just felt married again." He muttered. "Okay, here we go."

"And you, locksmith," Hood pointed to the silent young woman who'd once been cuffed. Cora had slipped away from the others and was in the process of checking the gates that were supposedly keeping them safe. At hearing the random call, she looked up and spotted the Sheriff. "You ever handle a gun before?" she nodded simply. "Grab one and head down to the basement."

Cora took the few steps needed to join Bunker at the table. He looked up and offered her one of the glocks he'd brought with him. She took it in her hands and weighed it gently. Her nose curled just a bit. She set it down and looked at the Nazi again. In his waistband were two more handguns. She pointed to the one on his right hip. Eying her skeptically, Bunker removed the weapon and offered it to her.

She looked over the weapon, this a .40 caliber and a bit bigger than the last, before expelling the magazine. She took inventory of the rounds before shoving it back in and cocking a round into the chamber like someone who'd had more than one encounter with a gun. Cora reached forward and took a box of ammunition Bunker had brought with him. Like she had with Brock, she gave him a curt, short smile before stepping around his broad figure and heading for the basement.

~!~

Cora wasn't the type to sit still. She found it difficult, especially when the situation was as tense as the one she found herself in. So she paced downstairs, walked around the basement and looked for anyway someone might be able to get in. With Bunker guarding the back door, there didn't look to be anything else giving the Red Bones ready access. But, in her searches, she found a first aid kit. It wasn't much, but it'd help those injured and she knew the regular folks -the ones terrified- would probably feel better for the simple help.

With the gun in her waistband and the first aid kit in hand, Cora made her rounds through those gathered and mended what she could. They had mainly scrapes and a few bruises from dropping violently to the ground, but nothing a few alcohol swabs couldn't solve.

After the lights went out and the generator kicked back on, Cora made her way towards the final person in the basement and the one who was actually injured more than they were. Hood was on his way out and spotted her approach with the first aid kit.

"You're a nurse too?" he asked jokingly.

Cora shrugged a single shoulder. The pair passed one another without another word. Hood made his way to the main floor while Cora joined Bunker.

He caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye, but didn't let his aim waver. She paid him only passing attention as she set her things down on a nearby crate. It gave Bunker a better line of sight. He watched her silently as she removed a large gauze pad and the small bottle of rubbing alcohol. He tensed his grip on the gun and turned his eyes to the door again.

"I'm fine." He told her in a thick, rumbling voice.

Cora looked at him briefly, but didn't bother to listen. Instead, she held one hand to his shoulder to silently tell him she was stepping behind and began to dab at the gash. Bunker fidgeted against the cold piece of gauze. He squirmed a little, moving this way and that, tensing and relaxing his muscles, but she didn't stop. At the moment, she was simply cleaning the blood from his skin to better see the cut left behind by the substantial piece of glass he'd pulled out of his shoulder.

Still holding his other shoulder with her free hand, Cora squeezed it gently. Somehow, Bunker knew that meant she was about to press the alcohol drenched cloth to the open wound. Sure enough, a moment later, he felt the undeniable sting of it. Bunker took in a sharp breath through his teeth, tensed every muscle and rolled his shoulder, but she kept the gauze held firm. After a second, the pain began to dull and Bunker relaxed with a sigh. After the initial sting, everything else moved rather quickly.

Cora returned to the kit and sifted through the remaining pieces within. She searched for a bandage big enough, but didn't seem to have one. She grumbled to herself.

"I only have Band-Aids." She said finally. Bunker, who noticed she wasn't one for speaking, turned just enough to look at her. Cora glanced back up through her lashes.

"It's fine."

Cora nodded. She began to put her things away and snapped the kit shut. She turned her back, ready to leave without another word, until Bunker spoke.

"Thank you." He said. She turned once more and noticed that despite speaking to her, his eyes were still on the door.

"You're welcome." She told him in return. "Cora."

He glanced over his shoulder briefly.

"Kurt."

She nodded again and left. He gave the back door his complete attention again. Still, he thought of the random woman who'd gone out of her way to help him. It wasn't the kindness that was odd necessarily. It was more than she hadn't remarked on his tattoos or hesitated to help that he found mildly strange.

~!~

The fighting would come in spurts. It would be silent for so long, those inside would grow as comfortable as they could in a stand off, and then the shooting would start sending them all on edge. The hours continued to move on and soon it was creeping close to five in the morning. If the stand-off didn't end soon, the Red Bones would have their pick of any number of civilians making their way to work. They could go on a shooting rampage if this didn't end soon.

"Come here," Cora said sternly. When the fighting had ebbed, she grabbed Bunker by his shirt and yanked him out of the way of fire.

"I'm fine." He said as he swatted at her attempts to help.

Cora reared back and slapped his hand away hard enough it made his fingers tingle. He looked at her in surprise. Without another word, she pushed him against the wall and took to her knees to better see the bullet wound. She lifted his shirt and began to gently probe his side.

He watched her work and wondered what the hell she was doing other than causing him further pain. Bunker remained as silent as he could for the most part until she pressed a bit too aggressively near the hole in his side. He let out a loud growl that drew her eye. Cora looked up through her lashes and caused his pain to suddenly disappear. Seeing a woman looking up at him from the angle she was made his mind flash with indecent thoughts long enough he forgot what she was doing.

"How bad is it?" Hood suddenly asked, forcing the pair to look at the Sheriff.

"The bullet's still in there." Cora replied, surprising the man with her sudden ability to speak. Cora looked again to the injury before covering it with Bunker's shirt. "But it feels like it may have missed anything too important."

"Good," Hood nodded. He looked at Bunker. "You good?"

Bunker gave him a short nod and the fighting began all over again. Hood dashed upstairs leaving Brock, Bunker and Cora to guard the backdoor with Alison protecting the civilians.

Gunfire raged again. Bullets bounced and ricocheted off every surface. They ducked and shot back, all trying to avoid being hit. It didn't entirely work.

Cora cried out as a ricocheting bullet sliced into her right arm. She fell back and disappeared behind the crates she'd been using for cover. Struck with the sudden urge to protect, Bunker dashed out from his hiding place near the entry to the hall Cora was in. He jogged for her quickly as he fired at the door. Dropping to his knees, he rested his gun against the top of the crate and wrapped as much of himself around the young woman as he could. She felt him surrounding her, but she was too filled with anger to stop fighting. Turning in her spot, Cora poked back out from hiding and fired.

Like all of them before, this gunfight ended only minutes after it began. The Red Bones who'd been shooting suddenly fled leaving those within the building alone. Everyone waited patiently for the next onslaught, silent and filled with adrenaline. When they heard sirens in the background, they knew they were as safe as they could be.

Cora relaxed. Her forehead fell gently against the crate she'd been using for cover. Her heart was still pounding and with it came the ache in her right arm. Cora grumbled at the pain. She shifted to try and see it only to realize the position she found herself in. Bunker was still hovering over her with his eyes on the door, but he was much closer than she assumed initially. She felt his chest pressed firmly against her back and his arms around her shoulders so he could aim his weapon. When she moved, he noticed the same.

Bunker pulled back just enough Cora could move. She looked at him over her shoulder and he met her gaze.

"Thank you." She told him under her breath. Bunker did nothing more than nod and let her stand.

With their salvation closing in fast, everyone began to make their way upstairs to see the real extent of the damage.

~!~

Outside, illuminated by the morning's rising sun, were body bags lining the building, a group of ambulances tending to those injured, civilians in shock, and one less deputy alive.

Bunker sat in the back of the ambulance staring into nothingness as an EMT tended to his shoulder while he held a cloth to his side. As far as job interviews went, this was definitely in a class all its own.

Movement ahead drew his attention. Bunker glanced up to see Cora walking passed with a fresh white bandage wrapped around her right bicep. She looked briefly to her side and hesitated when she saw Bunker. The two stared at one another for a moment before either moved. To his surprise, she approached him.

While the EMT was busy grabbing some supplies to bandage Bunker's shoulder, he stood to meet Cora in step. She looked up at him silently until acting. She reached up, held his jaw briefly in her hand before kissing his cheek. Bunker couldn't bother hiding his surprised confusion when she pulled back.

"Thank you." She repeated.

Like before, the best he could do was nod. Cora returned the sentiment and left without another word. She felt she owed him a proper thanks for jumping into the line of fire and shielding her while he himself was injured and since she didn't know him, the best she could offer was a peck to his cheek.

Now, she wanted to sleep. She wanted to take a shower. She wanted to be anywhere other than the Cadi.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The following days were filled with one investigation after another. Chayton's assault on the Cadi was considered a terrorist act which drew in Feds and because it involved Banshee Sheriff's Department, they had to be investigated by an outside force. They weren't allowed to conduct their own interviews or fill out their own paperwork. After the cluster-fuck the State Police had come up on, they didn't want to risk Banshee PD leaving anything important out of their reports for something trivial like revenge.

Since the scene was so chaotic, not every name had been recorded. Not everyone who'd been in the station that night was an employee which meant the State Police had to go through video footage. It was difficult considering not all of it had survived unscathed in the fire-fight.

Bunker was sworn in the following day. Considering what happened and the fact that Siobhan was gone, they didn't really want to wait to add another deputy to the mix. No one trusted Chayton not to attack. Though, instead of it being a relatively happy affair, it was depressing and sad. It just helped remind them of what no one would ever truly forget.

His first task was to help wrangle up the civilians from the shootout for the Staties. He left word with the couple, found the older gentleman and the other young woman, but now he had to find Cora. She was one of the few who'd actually been partially processed. The only thing that really helped was Raven had already asked her the personal details including her in-town address, but no phone number. She'd have to be spoken to in person.

Bunker drove through the back farm roads towards the address indicated. He knew marginally where he was going, but it'd been a long time since he was home and things tended to change. The single farm this land was a decade ago was now four smaller ones. It was a little tricky to find the right dirt driveway, but he eventually managed.

The cruiser pulled up to the small country home nestled within a few overgrown trees. They hung over the ranch-styled house casting it in shadow. It was quaint and a bit cute; something he didn't think suited the young woman from the other night. Ensuring he had his things, Bunker exited the car, headed up the front steps and knocked on the door.

He waited for a moment and when no one answered he knocked again. There was a car in the driveway so he was fairly certain someone was home, he just had to wait.

After a moment, he heard shuffling on the other side of the door. Through the large, textured glass in the center, he saw the figure of someone approaching. Bunker adjusted himself to seem as professional and respectable as possible just before the door opened.

An old woman, hunched over her walker and hooked up to a mobile oxygen tank, stood in front of him. Bunker felt a single brow slowly rise. This wasn't who he'd expected to find.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"Yes ma'am," he managed to get out. "I'm looking for Cora Roberts." He told her. "She listed this as her address."

"Apartment above the barn." She snapped before scuttling out of the way and slamming the door in his face.

Bunker's second brow rose to meet the first. He wasn't sure if the little old lady was just rude, or didn't like him for the tattoos stretching across his skin. Either way, she seemed to be an ornery little thing, and he was more than willing to leave her alone.

Jogging back down the stairs, Bunker headed for the barn he'd seen looming in the background when he drove up. It was a stereotypical style, the large red paneling with pitched roof, but now he could tell there might be someone living there.

The double doors that led inside were swung wide open and faced the driveway, but just visible around the corner was the hint of a staircase and a balcony. He assumed that whatever was on the second floor -be it an apartment or loft- the stairs were his only way to it.

The closer he got, the more he noticed a sound in the background. It was a dull thud at first, but soon became more pronounced the closer he came to the barn. His brows tugged together. It was coming from inside the barn.

With tentative steps, Bunker made his way towards the open barn doors. His hand came to rest gently on his side-arm. He didn't plan on using it, but it was always nice to have it as an option if need be.

He veered widely to the side to see through the massive doorway and spotted the source of the sound mid-way through the barn. It was Cora and he relaxed immediately. She was beating a heavy bag hanging from one of the support beams that stretched across the ceiling. Her punches were hardly heard from the distance, but her kicks were much louder. They were the sound that drew him to the barn in the first place.

When he reached the threshold, Bunker knocked heavily on the wall so he could keep from startling her. Cora turned and faced the man in the doorway. She seemed surprised by his uniform, but didn't remark on it. Instead, she stepped forward to meet him in stride as she unwrapped her hands.

"Deputy," she greeted.

"Ma'am." he replied.

"Can I help you with something?"

"Yes ma'am," he nodded. "I was hoping you'd be able to come down to the station to answer some questions about the Red Bones incident."

Cora nodded. She was still looking at his uniform. She liked it. It suited him in some strange way. Bunker's massive frame seemed to fill out the navy blue in just the right way and she wasn't above ogling for a moment.

Motioning for him to follow, Bunker waited for her to lead the way. He walked behind her back outside and to the staircase he'd caught a glimpse of from the driveway. He wasn't above staring either. Cora was wearing workout clothes. They shielded the majority of her skin save her shoulders and arms, but the spandex clung tightly to her chest, torso and legs. He most definitely wasn't above staring.

They jogged up the steps and to her front door. She opened it and led him into her simple apartment. It held the basics, a couch, a small kitchen and a TV. In the back was her 'bedroom', complete with a bed resting in the corner, a small dresser and a door that likely led to the bathroom. Again, it was incredibly simple.

"Give me a moment to change." She said as she headed to her bedroom.

Bunker nodded and hesitated in the living room area. He turned lazily on his heels and looked around the dwelling. It barely looked like someone lived there. True there were the signs, but it lacked anything that would give it a 'homey' feel. It looked like his place…

She emerged a few moments later and together they headed for his cruiser. She said she could drive herself, but he decided to offer to bring her back.

~!~

The Cadi was in a frenzy of activity. Construction workers danced around screwing plywood into place over broken windows, others swept up broken glass and the State Police were talking to people Cora recognized as ones who'd been there that night. Bunker seemed to know where to take her and led Cora to one of the back offices. She felt his hand on the small of her back when he guided her through the door.

"Thank you, deputy." The man behind the broken desk said.

Bunker didn't reply. He only eyed the man sternly before glancing to Cora. She nodded her thanks; he did the same, and finally left her with the detective.

The questions asked were tedious and she found them drawing. It was boring, but she told them everything she could from her point of view. She didn't know why the Red Bones attacked. She didn't know who Chayton was or why he killed a deputy. And she didn't know where they could have gone. Cora had only been in Banshee for a short period of time and not enough to know the city or its people well.

Eventually he let her go and she was grateful for it. Cora was never comfortable around most people, and those with some kind of authority bothered her even more.

Bunker had been watching from the distance, stealing glances of the young woman speaking to the detective, and avoiding the menial work he was given. There wasn't much else for him to do, so he occupied his time with writing useless papers and watching Cora.

When she finally stood and headed for the door, he did the same. His excuse to his coworkers was he had to give her a ride home. It got him out of the station and away from the judging eyes of everyone around him. While he could ignore most of it, he knew some of them were assuming the Nazi was the reason a bunch of tribesmen shot up the station house, so he was grateful for the reprieve.

They met at the door and stepped outside into the parking lot. Bunker guided her back to his cruiser, but Cora spotted something else more interesting. When she paused, he noticed.

"Are you hungry?" she asked the deputy.

Bunker looked from her to the diner across the parking lot and back again. She simply waited for his reply.

"Sure." He answered unsurely. He didn't know if he should take a lunch break or not, but he was a little hungry, and there wasn't much for him to do at work for awhile.

With a nod, Cora began towards the diner with him just behind her. They took a seat quickly and waited for a waitress. Bunker shifted within his uniform at the eyes he felt on his back. After a short glance around the room, he could see nearly everyone eying him from their seats. He cleared his throat and turned his attention back to his menu.

"Don't let it bother you."

Cora's random statement caused him to look at her through his lashes. She was busy reading her menu and chewing lazily on the straw the waitress had set down with their glasses of water.

"It's fine." He grumbled under his breath.

She looked at him and noticed he didn't seem to believe his words nearly as much as he hoped she did.

As she stared at him, Cora noticed a few things outside the obvious. Clearly Bunker was a good looking man. That was something anyone could see, but she saw something else. Despite trying to appear at ease, she saw how uncomfortable he was. She saw how he tried to shield himself from the stares of those around them and how he tried to ignore the hatred radiating from the populace. She saw shame, which wasn't a quality many neo-Nazis harbored. It made her pity him.

"You could always wear makeup."

The random statement caused him to stare at her with confusion. But Cora did something he hadn't seen before. She smiled. A sly smirk tugged at the corner of her lips as she looked at him.

"Just a bit of concealer, perhaps some foundation." She continued to tease. "I could help you with some tips, if you'd like."

Bunker wasn't sure what to make of the offer, but knew it was only a tease. Eventually, he relaxed enough to smile too. When he had, she let out a light giggle. The air around them had lightened enough the two felt comfortable around one another. It was a nice change.

Cora got a club sandwich and Bunker a side of fries. They didn't get anything that would take too long to eat, but would tie both over for the moment. They talked and bullshitted for awhile before the check came and they left.

Bunker drove Cora back to the farmhouse, but stayed in his car. He had no intentions of following her and simply waited for the young woman to exit. She opened the door and paused. His brows twitched together curiously before Cora turned to him.

"Would you like to have a drink with me?"

He hesitated. While he was an attractive man, Bunker had grown unaccustomed to garnering attention from attractive women since his tattoos spread. The kind of woman who generally didn't mind them were women he didn't want to be with and after seeing the disgust in people's eyes when they saw his ink, his confidence in asking someone out had waned. So to hear her -a stranger who he thought was a beautiful young woman- bluntly ask him for drinks was temporarily disarming.

Cora couldn't help it. Yes, she thought Bunker was a good looking man, from his broad stature, towering height, deep gravely voice, chiseled jaw and his beautiful hazel eyes. And he was sweet too. He rarely spoke, was polite and had risked his life for her during the Red Bones attack. While his tattoos might have caused most to pause, she could see the shame he felt at having them and overheard his story to Alison that night. She could tell they were regretted and didn't feel she had the right to hold them against him. Besides, she wasn't going to be in town long anyway, so what the hell?

"Okay," he found himself agreeing. "Tonight?"

"Wonderful." Cora smiled. "Any ideas?"

"There's a bar, called the Forge," he explained. "Nine?"

"Nine's perfect." Her smile widened and she nodded. "I'll see you tonight… Kurt."

He nodded again and watched as she slipped out of the car and headed down the driveway towards the barn. Cora couldn't help but glance over her shoulder one more time before he vanished. Her smile returned when she saw him looking at her too.

~!~

The night started out nice, but it didn't seem to want to stay that way. While Bunker and Cora sat in the corner talking and enjoying themselves, their presence didn't go unnoticed and despite his long sleeves, everyone knew what was on his skin. They received glowers and remarks and all other manner of rudeness. For awhile, it could be ignored. For awhile…

Three shadows darkened their periphery. Both were willing to ignore the bodies, but that wasn't what the newcomers had in mind.

"Hey babe," one chimed.

Cora's jaw tensed as she slowly turned to see moron-number-one had spoken while his two buddies did their best to remain tough looking.

"The fuck you doin' with some Nazi prick?" he continued. She said nothing, but raised a single brow to his comment. He planted his palms on the table and leaned close enough she could smell the liquor on his breath. "That what get you off?" he asked in a low voice before turning to Bunker. "Fuckin' some pencil dick skin-head?"

Bunker's body was so tense he was nearly shaking. He wanted to fight the man leaning onto their table. He wanted to fight all three of them, but he couldn't. Well, he could, but he knew he shouldn't. Bunker was struggling to gain a new life and beating the shit out of the drunks –while nice- would create more problems than it solved. He wasn't alone in his anger, however.

The drunk turned again to Cora. She stared blankly at him thinking of all manner of things to do if he kept talking. And kept talking, he did.

The drunk smiled slimily and licked his lips as he looked over her rather provocative clothing. Because she was meeting Bunker, Cora wore something with a low neckline and now someone else had decided to ogle it.

"You need a real man in your bed," he met her gaze with bloodshot eyes, "and between your legs."

When he reached out to touch her cheek, Cora reacted on instinct. She snatched his wrist, stood suddenly and wrenched his arm behind his back. The leverage gave her the chance to slam his face into the table top as hard as she could. The drunk's head bounced off the surface and when she felt him go limp she let go. He crumbled to the floor.

Everything transpired within seconds. It all happened so fast it took his friends a moment to realize their 'leader' was unconscious and bleeding on the floor.

"You fucking cunt!" the second bellowed.

Bunker shot up from his seat and landed a fierce blow to the drunk's face. He tumbled to the ground just as the first had, leaving the third standing alone, staring at the two who'd each knocked out one of his friends. The sobering fact was all he needed to flee.

Bunker was breathing heavily. His wild eyes danced along the crowd waiting for someone else to start a fight, but no one did. They all took marginal steps back from the pair and it was in that Bunker realized what happened. His head fell and he shook the rage from his shoulders. He was suddenly aware of how easily he could have lost control, how much he could have really hurt someone, and the kind of situation he'd put Cora in.

He reached for his jacket and quickly began to thread it on. The frantic movement caught Cora's attention. Her brows came together as he avoided her eye.

"I should go." He said as he shrugged it on.

"Why?" she didn't understand.

Bunker looked up. His brows were creased together tightly as he looked remorsefully at her. Before speaking, he glanced one final time to the men on the ground and their audience.

"This wasn't a good idea." He admitted. Bunker met her confused stare briefly. "I'm sorry."

He stepped over the men on the floor and headed for the door leaving Cora to process what just happened. Within a few short minutes, he was gone.

When she realized he wasn't coming back, Cora began to get angry. She wasn't mad at him necessarily, but she was angry nonetheless. Groaning drew her attention. The first drunk was beginning to rouse. Cora bit the inside of her cheek and her jaw tensed. It was all his fault.

"Asshole." She growled as she brought her heel up and smashed it against his head, knocking him out one final time.

Cora snatched her jacket off the back of her chair and stormed towards the door. She didn't even hear the chair clack against the floor or notice the wide berth people gave her as she left the bar.

When she was standing on the front porch and noticed Bunker's car was gone, the anger became sadness. She took a breath and sighed. Her head dipped as she pulled her jacket on. So much for a nice night out…

"Hey," a voice chimed from behind. Cora turned to see the Sheriff stepping out after her. "You okay?"

"Fine." She replied simply as she eyed him. "Are you going to arrest me? Again."

"Nah. Those assholes had it coming." He replied honestly. Hood was still so filled with rage and hurt for what happened to Siobhan that he felt nothing when it came to Cora and Bunker's outburst. Part of him honestly wanted to join in. "You were here with Bunker, right?" Cora nodded. "Date?"

"Sort of." She didn't know why he was asking. "That a problem?"

Hood shook his head. Cora realized she was being a bitch and relaxed. She sighed and looked out into the parking lot. She reached into her pocket for her keys just as lightening split across the sky. It was going to rain soon.

"So much for getting drunk." She mumbled.

Hood heard her regardless and smiled to himself at her comment. He had an idea, one she might like. He liked Bunker –as much as he could without knowing him well- and hoped the deputy wouldn't be angry.


	3. Chapter 3

**I haven't touched this story in awhile, but I'm coming back to it again. I hope you'll let me know what you think. I love reading the comments. FYI, this chapter is MA.**

 **Chapter 3**

The rain fell in sheets. Lightening flashed and thunder boomed. The storm was in full swing.

Bunker stood in the bathroom drying off after his cold shower. It was the only thing he could think to do to try and calm down. Even after making it home, Bunker was still filled with rage. He had trouble pinpointing what pissed him off the most, but was fairly certain it was how Asshole-Number-One and Two spoke to Cora. He was used to people treating him the way they did, but insulting her was a step too far.

When he caught sight of his reflection, Bunker's stomach fell. He sighed heavily as he looked at his tattoos. He'd been hesitant to agree to go out with Cora for good reasons, and they were painted across his torso. Bunker knew that no matter where they went, someone would end up staring and saying something.

Perhaps what bothered him the most was the embarrassment? He didn't like when his bad decisions affected those around him.

As he pulled on a pair of loose-fitting sweatpants, there was a knock on his door. Bunker's eyes narrowed. No one knew where he lived -not really at least- and those who did weren't people he wanted to deal with.

Moving hesitantly, Bunker headed for the front door. He grabbed a zip-up sweatshirt on the way and slid it on. There was a small chance whoever was on the other side was just someone normal and he didn't want them to see his bevy of tattoos. He made sure the zipper covered the most offensive bits just as another trio of knocks sounded against the thin wooden slab.

Bunker unlatched his locks and opened the door. He couldn't hide his surprise. Cora simply stood on his porch as the rain continued to pour behind her, half wet and waiting for an invitation inside.

"Hello again," she greeted.

"What are you doing here?"

"Becoming increasingly wet, at the moment." She teased lightly.

"Sorry,"

Bunker stepped aside and motioned for her to come in. She said her thanks and moved into his living room. Bunker closed the door and turned as she gently fluffed her hair as best she could. It still hung in tendrils, but it was no longer slicked to her head.

"How do you know where I live?" he asked.

Cora turned to face him. She shifted on her feet slightly.

"Your boss told me." She admitted. "Did you know he lives right by the Forge?"

"Yeah, he mentioned it." Bunker replied. "Was he there?"

"Yeah," she nodded and smiled slightly when she noticed him move uncomfortably. "He didn't care. He came up after you left." Cora dug into her bag and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. "I figured we could have a real drink."

He smiled softly. Cora shared the sentiment, but it slowly faded.

"Why did you leave like that?" she asked apprehensively. "Because of those guys?" He looked away and began to clench his fists at the thought of them. "They were just a couple of assholes."

"They were right," he said quickly. "About me. We shouldn't have gone out. It was a bad idea."

She glowered before she could stop herself. Cora didn't like that Bunker took was some hillbilly assholes said to heart. But as she looked at him –ready to say something about it- she noticed color peeking out from beneath his sweatshirt. Her expression fell. She'd never seen so much of his skin before, and even now it was just a hint of his chest.

Bunker noticed her face turn blank and realized quickly what she saw. He didn't hesitate to zip it up the rest of the way to hide the colored marks, but she'd already seen them.

He did his best to avoid her eye. He knew she'd judge him like others did and he didn't want to see that reflected back at him right now. But she didn't. Instead, she slipped the bottle of liquor back into her bag and slid it off her shoulder. She set it down on her walk closer to him. Bunker didn't look up until he noticed how close she was.

Cora reached out and took the zipper into her hands. Bunker's brows came together tightly. He didn't know what she was about to do and it made him nervous.

When he heard the sound of the zipper moving and felt her tug on his sweatshirt, he realized what was happening. Bunker tried to stop her, but Cora batted his hands away and continued to unzip his jacket. Feeling a pit of shame grow in his gut, he did his best to look away and avoid her inevitable disgust.

"Tattoos," she said softly. "Are like scars." Cora continued to unzip his jacket, slowly revealing the massive swastika in the middle of his chest. "Sometimes, they're memories we want to have. They remind us of a better time, maybe something happy." She reached the base of his jacket and gently pulled it open to reveal the entirety of what he tried to keep hidden. "And sometimes," Bunker twitched when he felt her touch him. Cora didn't notice. "Sometimes, they remind us of things we never want to think of again."

Her fingernails tenderly danced along his colored skin, weaving through the designs and along lettering. Bunker watched intently. He expected to see her anger, revulsion, or something from the bevy of emotions he'd grown accustomed to, but he didn't. Cora only looked on curiously and with a hint of sympathy, like she knew how much he hated them.

Cora's eyes stayed with her hands as she continued to touch him. Her fingers glided over his skin, sank between the dips in his well-formed muscles and noticed him twitch lightly when she had. It made her stomach flutter.

Gently, Cora pressed her open palms against his chest. She waited briefly for him to tell her to leave, or say she was overstepping, but he remained as silent as her. His skin burned as she guided her hands upward. He felt like fire.

"They're apart of us," she continued. Her delicate touch radiated through him. Cora finally met his eyes. "Whether we like it or not," her hands curled under his jacket and over his shoulders. "They'll always be apart of us. So we have to learn to live with them," Cora pushed the jacket off his shoulders. It fell easily to the ground under its own weight. Bunker didn't put up a fight to keep it on either. He was too enthralled in the feeling of her hands. "And find someone that sees passed them."

His lips parted as he stared down at her with relief. To her, his tattoos were just that. They weren't a declaration of his beliefs, or the way he saw the world. She saw them for what they were, a mistake.

Consumed by the rare spell of relief he felt, Bunker dipped down and claimed her lips before either of them could think better of it. He threaded his fingers through her hair, gently held the side of her head, and kissed her for a moment before eventually pulling back. Bunker looked into her heavy-lidded eyes for any indication on how to proceed. The way she looked up at him was enough.

He kissed her again and she happily reciprocated. Cora cooed softly when he pulled her close and pressed his body to hers. She wrapped her arms around him and held tight. Bunker grunted lightly when he felt her fingernails bite into his skin, but didn't stop it.

It didn't take long for an underlining passion to make it to the foreground. Bunker began to peel her leather jacket from her shoulders. When she was free of the obstruction, he bent down, wrapped his massive hands around her and lifted her into the air. Cora's legs laced around his waist on instinct and their lips parted. She smiled down at him as he carried her into the bedroom only a few steps away.

When he felt the edge of the bed hit his knees, he turned and sat versus lying on top of her. She straddled him easily. Bunker reached for the hem of her shirt and began to pull it off. She turned this way and that to help him. The moment the fabric was clear of her chest, Bunker bit down onto the soft flesh. Cora gasped and quickly shed herself of the garment the rest of the way. She wrapped her arms around his head and held him close while he kissed and nipped at her skin.

His hands snaked up her back. With nimble fingers, Bunker stripped Cora of her bra and didn't hesitate to claim what was freed. He dipped down just enough claim her silver nipple ring between his teeth. Her grip in his hair tightened and sent shivers down his spine. Cora leaned back just enough he could continue to explore and she wasn't disappointed.

When his lips reached her neck again, Bunker spun them. She giggled lightly when she felt him press her back into the bed. He heard the sound, but it barely registered. He just wanted more and so did she.

Their heated movements soon became frantic. They only wanted to strip the other of as much cumbersome clothing as possible to get what they wanted, to feel the heat of someone else pressed against them. Cora wouldn't admit it out loud, but it had been longer than she would have liked since she'd been with someone and that fact was contributing greatly to her erratic movements. What she didn't know was Bunker felt the same. Like with most things, his tattoos kept him from getting close to anyone and sex was one of those things that unfortunately fell to the wayside. But now… now they had someone to help slate the growing desire.

Cora began to undo the buttons of her jeans while she kissed the man above her. Bunker felt what she was doing and gladly helped. He pulled back and peeled the garment away as well as the damp denim would allow. Bunker was so focused on what he was doing that he didn't notice something she expected him to remark on. Cora felt an immediate relief when he crawled up the bed to her yet again and reclaimed her lips.

Bunker pawed at her skin, caressed and touched everything he could as his hand slid down her side. The moment he felt the lace of her panties, he gripped and pulled. The thin fabric tore easily under his strength. She gasped when she felt it, but did nothing more than wrap her legs around his waist. Bunker shoved at his sweatpants and didn't hesitate to push himself into her.

Cora cried out at the sudden intrusion. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders and held him tight as she breathed. Bunker buried his nose in the nape of her neck. He tried to steady his swimming head while listening to her panting softly in his ear. Eventually, after longer than he realized, he began to move. Her grip tightened.

She gasped and moaned each time he moved. Her legs tensed around his hips and her fingernails continued to dig into his shoulder. Bunker propped himself up on one elbow while the fingers of his other hand twisted themselves within her hair.

Her body pulsed with his heartbeat. He was all encompassing. Bunker was a larger man than she expected and she had trouble catching her breath because of it. But she reveled in it regardless. Still, he was moving at a staggeringly slow pace and it did nothing more than stoke her internal fires. She needed them slated. She needed him to cure the lust he'd sparked.

When it became clear Bunker couldn't muster more than a slow, but steady pace, Cora decided it was her turn. Moving her grip on his body, Cora suddenly spun the two until it was Bunker's back against the bed and her looking down at him. He seemed surprised by the action, but said nothing against it.

Slowly, Cora rose. She pressed her hands gently against his stomach as she sat upright. Their eyes never left one another's until she sat up completely. Cora's eyes drifted shut and her mouth fell lax when he was immersed in her completely. A soft gasp left her lips.

Bunker watched her eyes drift shut and reveled in it. It was something men enjoyed seeing no matter who they were. His grip on her hips tightened and he massaged the skin gently. Eventually, Cora was able to pry her heavy lids open so she could see the man beneath her. He bore the same euphoric expression she knew touched her face. Gradually, Cora began to move.

It was slow at first, but only at first. She didn't want to hurt him considering the newness of his gunshot wound, but she couldn't help herself. When she felt herself become as accustomed to him as much as she assumed she would, Cora's actions grew in strength. She ground herself into him and delighted when she saw his eyes flutter shut. It spurred her actions. Soon, the grinding grew more intense to the point she started bouncing on his lap. Cora gasped and moaned and dug her fingers into his lower stomach while Bunker held onto her hips tightly, guiding her and meeting her with each thrust. It didn't take long for them to gain not only strength, but speed.

Cora moaned loudly with each thrust, Bunker groaned from deep in his throat and both knew it wouldn't be long before either of them was going to reach the end. After only a moment or two of being in control, Cora felt her body ignite. The fires within exploded and sent shockwaves through her. Her fingernails dug sharply into Bunker's skin and her head flew back as she cried out. She trembled and shook as she rode the waves of euphoria that ran rampant through her.

As her climax began to saturate her and the control she had over her own body waned, Bunker realized she was losing intensity. He had to act. He was so close and had to finish.

Still holding her tightly, Bunker sat up and wrapped his arms around her body. She clung limply to his shoulders while he rocked the pair of them. It was all he needed to finally succumb to her. Bunker hugged her to his body as he plummeted over the edge to his own end. He growled deeply in his throat and buried his face in her hair.

Slowly, their movements ceased and their hearts calmed. Cora's breathes turned into soft whimpers while Bunker continued to pant into her hair. Eventually, she pulled back and looked into his tired face. She was relieved he looked as exhausted as she did.

Bunker reached up with one of his hands and threaded a few stray pieces of her hair around his fingers. He gently pushed them back and guided them behind her ear before kissing her softly. Cora cooed into his lips and gladly returned the affection. When they parted, it wasn't far. Bunker rested his forehead against hers.

As they rested and let their wits come back, Bunker felt something strange touching his thigh. He shifted himself enough to look down and realized it was what was left of her panties still clinging uselessly to the only leg he hadn't torn them from. With a smile, he gripped them again and began to tug them away. When there was a bit of space between their bodies, Bunker noticed something he was amazed he'd missed before.

His brows came together at the sight of it. Tentatively, he reached for the surprising sight. The moment he touched it, his eyes met hers. Bunker was taken aback to see a hint of shame as she avoided meeting his gaze for a moment or two.

"You're not the only one with scars." She told him softly.

He wasn't sure what to say or if he had the right to say anything at all. Instead, Bunker leaned forward and kissed her again. It was just enough to spur the embers in their guts that hadn't quite died.

~!~

Neither knew how long had passed before their bodies simply gave out. They just didn't have the energy to continue and both were content to lay in relative silence while they rested.

Bunker was lying on his back with a pillow and his right arm propped under his head to keep it up. Cora was lying on her stomach beside him with her face half buried in a pillow. She was looking at him staring back at her. Both of them were tinted rose from their exertion and glistening with just a hint of sweat. It had been an impressive workout. She felt her lips curl into a smile as she stared at Bunker as innocently as she could manage. He returned the sentiment until his eyes caught sight of the scars on her body. His smile faltered and she noticed.

Cora glanced over her shoulder to see what he was looking at. Seeing them, even so long after she'd gotten them, caused her gut to turn just a bit. Deciding she might as well get it out into the open, Cora rolled onto her right side so he could see them in their entirety.

Scars dotted the left side of her body from her ribcage to the middle of her thigh. They were gashes in style, but more than that. There looked to be burns mixed in. Bunker didn't know how to describe what he saw. It just looked like something very hot had exploded against her skin. Roughly twenty percent of her body was scarred, all of it draping along her side.

He wanted to ask her about it, but didn't. He figured if she chose to say anything she would, so he said nothing.

In the silence, Cora noticed the clock on the end table. It flashed 12:00 which made her muse to herself. Either Bunker never set it, or the flickering lights an hour or so ago was enough to knock the power out, so she got up and crawled across the bed. Cora groaned at the soreness already taking hold, but ignored it in favor of finding her jeans dangling near the foot of the bed. She searched through her pockets and found her phone.

"I should go." She said when she spotted the time. It was three in the morning.

Bunker said nothing. He sat back comfortably and watched as Cora slid from his bed and began to pull on her clothes. It was tricky considering most of her clothes were still damp, but she managed.

When she had on her jeans and bra, Cora returned to Bunker's side. He was lying on his back with a minimal amount of his sheets covering himself. The sight made her cock a brow and smile. It was a delicious scene, she had to admit.

Cora crawled up the length of him and smiled at the man beneath her.

"You owe me a new pair of panties." She told him with a smile. Bunker chuckled before reaching up and threading his fingers through her hair. He pulled her down into another kiss which she happily returned. When they parted, she nipped lightly at his bottom lip. "I'll see you again."

She turned and left with a smile on her lips, snatching her shirt up from the floor on the way. Bunker meant to stand and walk her out, but he heard his door open then close before he had the chance.

His eyes instinctively fell to the blank spot on the bed beside him where she once laid. Balled up was a pair of bright blue panties, torn and useless. It was the only thing she left behind. He chuckled to himself.


	4. Chapter 4

**Long. Enjoy!**

 **Chapter 4**

Cora watched little TV and listened to less radio, but what she did was filled with the Red Bones incident. A few assholes were comparing it to the Wild West. Where did they get that shit? It wasn't cowboys and Indians. It was one angry man, nothing more. Even Cora could tell while it was happening that it was personal. It was between the man called Chayton and the Sheriff. It wasn't as generalized as the press made it sound. Jesus, they made it sound like 'them Indians done gone crazy!'

Fucking hillbillies.

They spoke also of those who died, both Kinaho and Banshee alike. Cora didn't realize that many people had died that night. Too many things were happening for her to pay much attention to the fallen, but now there was a number. There were faces. And one or two had fallen by her hand, too.

Cora was in the middle of her workout when her phone beeped. She reached for it on the coffee table and flipped open the screen. It was a text from Bunker.

" _I'm gonna need a rain check."_ He said. She wasn't surprised. Things were hectic for the police right now.

" _Work?"_ she asked.

" _Yeah."_

" _Later?"_ She said.

" _Later."_

Cora snapped her phone shut and tossed it onto the couch. They were supposed to meet up again for drinks and maybe dinner. It didn't look like it was going to happen.

It had been four days since the Red Bones attacked the station, giving the Feds enough time to take over and funeral arrangements be made. Cora hadn't seen much of Bunker since then because they were all so busy, and she was disappointed by it. She only planned to be in town for another few days, week at the most. However long it took her to finally do what she'd come to Banshee to do.

The two had fun when they were together that night and the single time they'd seen each other since. They clicked, and that was rare for her.

As a plan began to form, Cora headed to the bathroom to shower before enacting it.

~!~

The radio sang a song from fifty years ago as Cora leaned against the hood of her car in the Cadi parking lot. She hadn't made her way inside and didn't much plan on it. The building was crawling with official types.

Cora had been leaning against her car with her arms crossed over her chest and staring at the building for nearly ten minutes. That wasn't a wise thing to do in most situations and even less so when the building inside was filled with people who were jumpy, and wearing guns.

It didn't take long for someone to emerge and head right for her.

Brock soon came through the shattered, plywood covered front doors and headed for Cora. He glanced from one side to the other –likely to ensure no Red Bones came from the shadows again- before reaching her.

"Miss Roberts," he said, "Right?"

"Deputy Lotus." She nodded. She remembered the cops' names.

"Is there somethin' I can help you with, 'cause," he looked back towards the Cadi before meeting her eye again, "You've been out here for a little while and you're making some of the Feds kinda jumpy."

A light smile tugged at her lips. She almost enjoyed the fact.

"I wanted to talk to Kurt, but, like you said, there are Feds in there."

His brows came together curiously.

"Got somethin' against cops?"

She shook her head and shrugged a shoulder.

"Not really, but Feds are dicks." She answered with a sigh, "Everyone knows it."

Brock mused to himself, but didn't let the smile actually show.

"You'd be right there." He agreed. "Well, if you want to talk to him, come on."

Cora nodded. She pushed herself away from her car, leaned in and snatched her keys before following after him.

Brock led her into the –still buzzing- station. Men in tactical uniforms eyed her suspiciously as she was walked through. She could tell they were the ones who'd been watching her outside.

Through a broken-out window ahead, Cora spotted Bunker. He noticed her the same instant and the look of shock was adorable. He rose to his feet and scuttled towards her just as Brock brought her by.

"Bunker," he said with an authoritative tone when the newest hire reached them, "Your girlfriend was waiting outside, making the assholes-in-green nervous."

"Sorry, sir." He replied.

Bunker was going to tell Brock that he and Cora weren't dating, but there wasn't much point. They could tell by the elder cop's tone that he was well aware.

"Yeah," Brock replied as he left the two.

Bunker turned his attention to Cora.

"What are you doing here?" he asked curiously.

"Can we talk in private?"

"Sure," he nodded.

He motioned for her to follow. Bunker led Cora deep into the Cadi. She knew where she was going to some degree because of the time she spent there days before, but still followed to see where he planned to take her.

The number of people dwindled until finally disappearing when they made their way to the file room. It was tucked behind the cells and downstairs, just before the bulk of the basement where the shootout had happened. It was really the only place the Feds hadn't taken over and called their own.

"I thought I was going to meet you later?" he asked.

"What's happening up there?" she pointed up.

Bunker looked up for a brief moment on instinct.

"Task Force." He replied with a sigh. "For Chayton Littlestone."

He didn't bother keeping the Feds' secret. Cora had been a part of the shootout too, so he figured he might as well tell her the truth.

"He's the one that shot up this place, isn't he?"

Bunker nodded.

"So, long night ahead?"

Bunker nodded again before adding, "They want to take him before dawn."

Cora chewed briefly on her bottom lip as she looked at the young man towering over her. He looked a little sad, and slightly annoyed that he had to stay at work for the next twelve hours.

"I think I'll need a rain check." He told her disappointedly.

"I figured." She nodded. "I just wanted to come by and say hi."

He smiled lightly. She didn't have to, but he was glad she did.

"I'll see you later?" he asked.

Cora was looking at his uniform. She reached forward and snaked a couple fingers between his buttons. She hooked him and slowly pulled him closer.

"Yup," she muttered.

Bunker fell easily into the guidance and stepped forward like she wanted. Cora looked up at him through her lashes as she continued to pull.

Even when he stood over her, she tugged at his shirt. Bunker put up no resistance.

Cora kissed him when he was close enough and Bunker happily complied. They kissed deeply and with an underlining passion that told them both they wanted to take it further.

He threaded his fingers through her hair and tugged gently. Cora gasped and pulled back enough she could speak.

"You sure they need you?" she asked breathily.

"M-hm," he muttered before kissing her again.

Bunker groaned when he felt her hand slip between them and caress a rather 'pronounced' appendage.

Their kissing deepened and the intensity grew.

"I do too," Cora continued between kisses. Bunker's response was little more than a sigh. "After, come over after," she gasped.

"I don't know how long," he mumbled as Cora nibbled at his neck, "this'll take."

She didn't reply verbally. Instead, Cora squeezed him harder than before and bit into his neck again. He growled deeply.

"I'll come after work." His voice rumbled.

" _Bunker!"_ echoed in the background, but all he heard was Cora's light giggle.

She pulled back enough to look at the man hovering so close. Bunker met her gaze with his eyes heavy and clouded with desire.

"I guarantee it." She grinned.

His lips turned into a brief smile a moment before Brock emerged on the stairs. He hesitated when he saw how close the two were. They were obviously in the middle of something and he fidgeted as a result.

"Need you upstairs." He replied.

"Yes sir." Bunker nodded.

Without anything further, Brock turned and disappeared again. Bunker's attention went back to Cora.

"I should go."

His voice was still deep and rough despite him trying to clear it away. She bit her bottom lip lightly and wondered if she even wanted to let him go.

"Yeah," Cora finally sighed. "See you later?"

He looked down at her as she cocked a single brow. This time, his smile formed completely and he chuckled.

~!~

Around ten in the morning the following day, Cora headed for the only diner that seemed to be in Banshee. She still hadn't heard from Kurt, but assumed he must still be working. That had to suck.

As she exited the car, Cora's eyes moved from the Cadi to the diner. One place she wanted to be much more than the other. She hated visiting family. They weren't exactly _close_. After putting it off for a week, however, Cora had no choice. There was no more avoiding this.

She was already annoyed when she entered the diner and spotted her brother.

Cora approached the booth and slid in without a break in step.

"You're late." He said without looking away from the window.

"And you're a dick." She said with a sarcastic sigh. "What's your point?"

The man in the uniform finally gave her his attention. He eyed her disapprovingly.

"That cop your new toy?" he asked judgingly.

Cora cocked a brow at him. That was definitely a random direction for the conversation to go.

"You been stalking me?" she asked with a tone.

"You know me better than that." He replied. "You really think I wouldn't know you've been in Banshee for a week, were already arrested, in a shoot out and you're fucking the new deputy?"

"So that's a yes with the stalking?" she said derisively. "Do you even really care?"

"He's covered in propaganda." He continued without hearing her jab. "He's a fuckin' Nazi."

Cora scoffed and shook her head.

"Don't act like you give a shit about the guys I fuck, _Dougie._ "

His jaw clenched as did his fists.

"Don't call me that, Cora."

"Aye, aye, Colonel." She saluted sarcastically.

Stowe shot forward and snatched her wrist. He slammed it into the table and pulled her forward. His eyes were black with rage.

"You were a soldier." He growled through his clenched jaw. "So _fucking_ act like one."

She stared at him blankly and silently. She was defiant and he hated that. Before Stowe could say something else, he heard a distinctive click from beneath the table.

"Let go of my arm," she told him in a low, angry voice, "Or I swear to all that is holy, I will unload this fucking mag into your balls."

Stowe's jaw tightened to the point it looked painful. Every nerve was on end, every muscle tense, but he finally let go. Cora slowly sat upright. He waited patiently, but soon he heard the gun click once more and knew the safety was on.

"Nothing like family time, hm?" she asked snidely.

He eyed her and slowly began to shake his head. Cora could feel the disappointment that billowed off him like smoke. She rolled her eyes and chose instead to look out the window.

"You were smart," he began, "Talented, top of your class, and a leader. You could've continued to climb the ranks. The hell happened to you?"

"I was blown up, Doug." She said obnoxiously. Cora met his gaze unblinkingly. "Remember?" he didn't reply. "You should." Stowe continued to remain silent which only annoyed her further. Cora sighed and shook her head. "Where's my money?"

"You can come work for me. I could always use someone with your skill."

"No," she said flatly. "I'm done, I told you that."

"You could have more than 750 thousand."

"I don't want more." She snapped before quickly silencing herself. "Look, the last time I worked for you, I lost my team, my career and I almost died, so no, I won't be coming back."

He looked angry on top of his usual disappointment, but Cora wasn't deterred. She wanted nothing to do with him.

"Fine." He replied. Stowe slid out of the booth. "Come with me."

Cora followed him out of the diner and to his vehicle. Stowe popped the trunk and pulled out a duffle bag. He handed it to her and Cora felt the weight of it immediately. After slamming his trunk shut, Stowe turned again to her.

Stowe opened his mouth to speak, but Cora didn't give him the chance.

"Goodbye, Doug." She said without emotion.

Cora turned and headed for her car. She didn't even bother looking back. Stowe left and headed back to the base by the time she reached her vehicle.

She opened the back door and tossed the bag inside. When she went for the driver's door, Cora noticed someone coming out of the Cadi. She smiled lightly before whistling an obnoxious cat-call.

Bunker heard the sound and looked up to see where it had come from. He noticed Cora grinning as she leaned against her car. A light smile tugged at his lips. Bunker found himself moving towards her.

"Are you just getting off work?" she asked.

"Yeah," Bunker nodded. He sounded exhausted. "What are you doing here?"

"Breakfast with family." She replied.

His brows came together and he eyed her curiously.

"You're from Banshee?"

She scoffed and shook her head.

"Brother's on the base."

"He's a soldier?" he asked with genuine interest.

"Yeah… among other things." She replied under her breath. "So," Cora stepped slowly around the car to reach him. She was sure to close just about all of the distance between them. "You should come over tonight."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." she nodded.

Bunker found himself chuckling and agreeing before he could think better of it. So with a flirtatious kiss, Cora said her farewell and left.

Bunker stood in the parking lot and watched her disappear. He wasn't sure how he found himself in the situation he was in.

The passed few days happened faster than most. All he wanted to do was come in and talk to the Sheriff about his application, but then the Red Bones attacked. The same night he was handed a job and met Cora. The following day they went out, got into the bar fight, and ended up having sex later.

He was busy with work after that, but he'd wanted to see her again since. They got along better than he thought they might and Bunker was all for having some fun

~!~

Bunker came by her apartment that night after having a fair amount of sleep. He was glad for it. They wasted about as much time as they did at his place when Cora magically showed up that night. He needed all his energy.

After an impressive bought, the pair finally calmed. Bunker was lying on his back with Cora resting across the bed and her head on his stomach. She was playing with his hands.

Bunker watched as Cora held his hands against hers, toyed with his fingers and looked at the tattoos that marked them. He waited for her to tell him how stupid it was to have such hateful things so visible.

"You've broken your knuckles before." she said softly as she held his hand.

He eyed the top of her head curiously.

"How can you tell?"

"Just can." She replied.

Cora's phone suddenly began to ring. With a sigh, she rolled onto her stomach and crawled over Bunker. She didn't bother being graceful and actually attempted to make it as cartoonish as she could. He smiled and laughed to himself as she did. He even went so far as to land a sharp smack to her ass, just because.

Cora shot him a playful glare before seeing the number on her phone. She rolled her eyes and tossed it down. The instant the ringing stopped, it started up again. She ended the call a second time without answering.

"Boyfriend?" Bunker asked. It was a question he never thought to ask before, but now seemed pertinent.

"God no." she laughed. Cora pushed herself up and looked down at him smiling at her. "I'm too crazy to date."

Bunker chuckled again as he threaded his fingers through her hair to pull her close. They kissed one another and had every intention of picking up where they left off, but they didn't get the chance.

Cora's door suddenly burst open. She instinctively cowered while Bunker shielded her as shards of the doorframe flew into the apartment. When it settled, she looked up and saw a man standing just inside with a gun in his hand. He was furious and she was soon raging too.

"The fuck do you think-"

Cora didn't get the chance to finish before being grabbed. Stowe snatched her by the back of her neck and pulled her off Bunker. He threw her against the wall and was on her in an instant. Stowe glared down at her hatefully as he held her throat tightly. Cora felt the cold barrel of his gun press against the underside of her chin.

"Where is it?" he growled.

"The fuck are you talking about?" she spat as she struggled against him.

"Don't fuck with me," his voice was deep and angry, "Who's your team?"

The sound of a gun clicking alerted Stowe to the fact they weren't alone. He slowly turned to look over his shoulder. Bunker stood a few feet behind with his weapon aimed intently at the Colonel's head and as naked as he had been when the soldier barged in.

"Let her go." He said with a deep, stern voice.

A wicked smile began to tug at Stowe's thin, snake-like lips. He looked back at Cora.

"Your boyfriend going to shoot me, Cora?" he asked her with thick sarcasm.

"God I hope so." She told him.

"Let her go." Bunker repeated.

Stowe moved slowly. His body was too tight and tense not to. But eventually, he released Cora's throat and lowered his gun.

"I'll ask again," he told Cora, "where is it?'

"I don't know what the _fuck_ you're talking about." She hissed angrily. "I've been here for hours. Now get the fuck out."

Stowe glanced back one final time to Bunker before heading for the door. He didn't believe her, but there was a gun aimed at his head so he had no choice but to leave. Bunker intended to stop him, but Cora shook her head.

Within a few minutes, the soldier was gone leaving the two alone again. Cora barely breathed easier. Stowe had held her throat so tightly, she was bruising already.

"Who was that?" Bunker demanded.

Cora met his eye. He was angry, and in many ways had every right to be. She hadn't been the only one intruded on, after all.

"My brother." She answered reluctantly.

Bunker's face immediately sank.

Their night ended quickly after that. Cora's level of rage and embarrassment was unfathomable. She wouldn't even meet Bunker's eyes as she scrambled to put on clothes and fed him some excuse as to why he should leave. Still too stunned by what happened, Bunker obliged and left without a word.

No sooner than he was gone did she lose control. Cora screamed her anger and shook as she grabbed anything within reach just to throw it. She'd never felt so violated and she wanted to react. She wanted to hunt down Stowe and gut him. She wanted to take it back so Bunker hadn't seen how fucked her life was. But there was nothing. She could do nothing, but stew in her hatred and rage.

~!~

The following day, Cora walked down the aisles of the grocery store looking for something to eat. She needed just a bit of food, but didn't want to get too much. She planned on leaving soon, especially after last night.

As she turned the corner to grab herself a loaf of bread, Cora spotted someone she truly didn't wish to see. Her neck began to hurt with phantom pain and her fingers wrapped tightly around the cart's handle at the sight of Stowe standing near the wheat bread loaves.

She said nothing as she approached, but kept her eye firmly fixed on him. She even pushed him out of the way with her cart to get to the bread.

Stowe didn't speak at first. He noticed Cora trembling.

"Where's my money?" he asked in a low growl.

Cora slowly turned to face him. Her delicate features were twisted with confusion and anger.

"What?" the word barely managed to leave her lips.

"My money," he replied in the same tone. Stowe closed the distance between them and stood over her just so she'd remember 'who was in charge'. "You and your team snuck in and stole my _fucking_ money."

She clenched her jaw so tightly it looked painful. Cora turned to him completely and met his stare without blinking.

"I didn't take your god damn money," she growled, "I want nothing to do with it, or _you_. I was at home with Kurt, you fucking psycho. Now, get the _fuck,_ " Cora shoved him hard enough Stowe back-stepped and nearly hit the adjacent wall of groceries, "away from me. We're done with each other, you hear me?"

Without anything else to say to the man in the uniform, Cora snatched a loaf of bread from the shelves and headed on her way. Every muscle in her body hurt because they were so tense. Cora wanted a fight.

She hated her brother, and likely more than most people hated their enemies. She and Stowe didn't get along in the slightest for many reasons, so to some the act of violence might have seemed incredibly over-the-top. To her, it made sense.

There was a hint of brotherly love in there somewhere, deep, _deep_ down, but the majority of the time they hated one another.

Cora was leaving the store and heading for her car when someone else spotted her. She didn't know it at first, or care, as she loaded her bags into her backseat.

Bunker was getting into his SUV across the street when he saw her. He hesitated and watched as she opened the backdoor to slide in her grocery bags. He hadn't talked to her since Stowe had barged in on them. The new cop didn't know what possessed him, but soon he found himself crossing the street to talk to her.

Just as she slammed the door, Cora heard her name. She looked up to see Bunker and immediately began to move uncomfortably on her feet. The embarrassment from the night before returned.

He made it to her side easily enough, but hesitated to speak. His eyes drifted to her throat. The bruises left behind from Stowe's hand were so prominent, Bunker could count the fingers.

"How's… your throat?" he found himself asking without knowing why.

"Fine," she muttered. Cora finally met his eye. "Sorry about last night."

His brows came together as he looked at her.

"That wasn't your fault."

She shrugged a single shoulder dismissively. His gaze again fell to her throat and his stomach dropped. Bunker had to fight the urge to reach out and touch it tenderly or to try and make it better.

"Am I going to see you again tonight?"

Cora's attention snapped to Bunker. Her brows came together as she looked at him with confusion. She opened her mouth to speak, but words were lacking for a moment.

"Sure," she still couldn't hide her surprise. Cora figured he would never want to talk to her again after what happened.

Bunker smiled crookedly. He took the half-step needed to close the distance between them and kissed her cheek.

"I'll stop by later." He replied.

Still bearing a kind –and a bit seductive- smile, Bunker returned to his patrol car.

He didn't know why he wanted to see her again. No, that was a lie. He knew why, he just didn't know why he wasn't uncomfortable around her. To have someone barging into your apartment and man-handling you like that –a family member no less- should have made anyone on the outside run for the hills, but not him. Bunker couldn't help but push the obvious warning signs aside.

Besides, he was no stranger to dysfunctional family.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Her attention was on the fire she'd lit in the small pit outside. The night was a little brisk and Cora didn't feel like going inside. She was more content to remain in the open, where it wasn't stuffy and she could hear someone coming up on her.

Bunker text her about a half an hour ago and told her he was on his way. He wanted to warn her and he was right to. Cora was a bit on edge after Stowe's 'visit' and had taken to keeping her gun near.

The wood crackled and the flames danced as she thought. Her rage grew when her mind drifted to Stowe. He had no right to handle her the way he did and she wanted to retaliate. She was still so angry.

A car parked in the distance. Cora looked over her shoulder towards the driveway. She was on the other side of the barn and could see straight through it to the house in the distance and the man who had exited the vehicle. She could tell from his size it was Bunker. Cora whistled and alerted him to her before he headed upstairs.

Bunker spotted the light before he heard her call. The barn was lit up from the inside. Small lanterns hung from the rafters and a few were attached to support columns. Most didn't work because the bulbs hadn't been replaced, so the inside of the barn was in a light orange glow. The double doors on both sides were wide open too so he could see straight through to the fire pit on the other side and Cora sitting in a lawn chair.

His walk through the hay-barn was brisk. Bunker was still charged from his run-in with his former brothers. Beating two skin-heads left him still wanting blood. He thought the workout would help. It didn't.

When Bunker reached her side, he didn't speak. His first instinct was to grab her and pull her up, but he wisely didn't after what happened with Stowe. Instead, he offered her his hand.

Cora looked up curiously and noticed his intense stare. It was strange to see him so wild-eyed, and stirred something within her. To her surprise, she took his hand.

Bunker immediately lifted her to her feet, and without hesitation lifted her into his arms. Cora hadn't removed her shocked expression even after wrapping her legs around his waist.

Still staring at her, Bunker took wide steps to the edge of the barn. Cora grunted lightly when he pushed her against it. Her fingers clenched the fabric around his shoulders. Bunker waited for a single moment to see if she wanted him to continue or leave. When her lips parted slightly, he took that as his sign.

Bunker dipped in and kissed Cora passionately. He was relieved she returned it just as ferociously.

They pawed at one another when it became clear that they were more than willing to take things to the next level. Before, they'd been what most would call 'average' when it came to their trysts. Now –still swelling with the anger and frustration from their own lives- things weren't as tender as before.

Clothes were cumbersome and dealt with easily. Bunker slammed himself into Cora almost as hard as he could. She only cried out for more.

Angry sex did seem to be the most fun, though in this case didn't last long.

~!~

Bunker couldn't sleep for some reason. His subconscious knew it was in a foreign place and woke after a few short hours as a result.

He stretched and yawned lightly before looking to the young woman at his side. Cora was asleep with her back to him. The sight made him smile, but only at first.

The sun was rising in the distance and light came through the windows as a result. It wasn't bright yet, but enough to let him see something he'd somehow forgotten about. Cora's scars.

Bunker rolled onto his side and tentatively reached out. His fingers barely touched her skin -if at all- as they danced over the marks. Now he had a chance to examine them.

The 'core' of the wound started at her waist and spread out. Her already fair skin made the pink scar stand out even more despite the color barely more than a blush. Her skin looked like it was pulled tight, but he knew otherwise. From the main bulk of the wound, other marks dotted her body. They were small, cut-like bits that spread outward, touched the back of her arm (like she'd held it up to shield her face) and only solidified his theory about her being next to an explosion.

The scars had clearly already been operated on, but still looked so very painful. The things that had to happen…

Bunker's fingers started at the top of the entirety of the scars –just beneath her armpit- and moved tenderly down the length of them until ending halfway down her thigh. The pit in his stomach grew the longer he looked at the marks. They weren't _ugly_ per say, but he knew something ugly happened.

Cora took in a deep breath and Bunker knew he might have woken her. To disguise what he'd done, Bunker wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. She fell easily under his strong arm and woke completely.

"What time is it?" she asked dreamily as her back was pressed to his chest.

His lips were by her ear when he replied, "early." His voice was deeper in the morning.

Cora nodded and nuzzled once again into her pillow. She meant to go back to sleep, but didn't. Bunker didn't realize he was caressing her hip, but only they area affected by the scar. She chewed on the inside of her cheek as she stared at the blank wall across from her.

"You can ask, if you want." She said.

Bunker didn't reply, but she felt his hand immediately stop moving. Cora gently rolled over enough she could put her shoulders to the bed and see him, but her hips were still turned. She looked up at a nervous Bunker.

"You can ask." She told him again.

Bunker swallowed hard. His eyes traveled down the length of her body until stopping at his hand, but he only saw the wound.

"I figured you'd say something," he looked up and met her gaze, "If you wanted to."

She smiled lightly at his consideration. For some reason, that made her speak.

"It was a couple years ago." She said softly. Bunker remained silent. "My team and I were doing a job for my brother." Cora neglected entirely to mention the job was illegal, "The bomb was under the driver's seat." Her voice hitched slightly and he noticed. Bunker's brows came together as he looked sadly at the young woman who wouldn't meet his eye. "I was supposed to be driving."

Bunker felt the need to comfort her. He leaned back enough to loop his arm around her and pull her to his chest. Cora fell to his guidance again. They shifted and moved until Bunker was on his back cradling Cora to his side. Her head rested on his chest.

As she lay there, Cora's eyes began to water and burn with the promise of tears. To try and distract herself, she traced along Bunker's tattoo. She still remembered that night vividly.

"What happened to your team?"

He didn't want to press, but his natural curiosity had won out.

"They didn't make it." Her voice was soft. "The official report was an IED," she sniffed softly, "but it wasn't. It was him."

His face twisted curiously as he continued to listen and stare at the ceiling.

"Who?"

"Doug," she breathed, "My brother."

Bunker shot up, jostling Cora into sitting up. He propped himself on his elbows to better see her. The disbelief was palpable, but Cora could do nothing more than look back blankly.

He wanted to say she was wrong. He wanted to tell her there was no way a brother could do something like that to a sibling, but words fell short the moment Bunker's eyes moved to her throat. The bruises looked even darker in the shadows.

His brows came together again and sadness took over his features when he looked at her. Reaching forward, Bunker pulled her to his side once more and sank back into the bed.

She wasn't lying when she said Stowe was responsible and Bunker seemed to sense it. It made asking her anything else increasingly difficult.

Truth was, Stowe was trying to cover his tracks. The two of them had never got along well, but seemed to share a similar level of greed. Knowing her military career, Stowe pulled some strings and had Cora brought to his unit. She was talented enough for his purposes and since he lacked any ability to care about another human being, he could kill two birds with one stone. Not only would he get rid of anyone on the outside who knew what he was doing, but he could finally get rid of that little bitch that tore his family apart.

Once Cora and her team delivered the money, they were sent to abandon the vehicle elsewhere. She was supposed to be driving, but was tired so one of her friends took over. When they were far enough gone, the humvee erupted in flames. Molten metal slashed through Cora's side and her burning uniform melted to her skin. The only thing that saved her was being thrown from the vehicle. The others weren't as lucky.

She spent months in the hospital and even longer in rehab. Through digging, she learned the details and it didn't add up. She put nothing passed Stowe and knew it was him that caused it. He told her, when she was awake, that he'd give her a cut since she almost died retrieving it. Cora knew it was to placate her and keep her from telling the truth, or at the very least, keep her from suspecting him.

She knew he hated her and had since she was born. He'd told her on multiple occasions that if her whore mother hadn't gotten knocked up, his family would still be together. It wasn't Cora's fault Stowe's dad couldn't keep his dick in his pants, and even less that he liked her more than his own son. Maybe if Stowe wasn't fucking crazy, more people would like him.

She got out of the hospital two years ago and it took her that long to even want to be near enough to Stowe to get her money.

Cora continued to think about the past as she traced over Bunker's tattoos.

"You can ask." He said after awhile. His voice brought her back into reality and caused her to look up at him. He smiled lightly and repeated, "You can ask."

"I figured you'd say something," a soft smile touched her lips as she repeated what he said earlier, "If you wanted to."

He chuckled.

They talked that night, which wasn't strange for most, but odd for them. In reality, the most either of them really said was during sex or planning to meet each other. They never had 'in depth' conversations, but that time they did.

He told her about Florida and living other places than Banshee. Cora told him about growing up in New York and joining the Army. They didn't reveal deep dark secrets, but had real conversations until Bunker had to leave and get ready for work. It was strange, but nice at the same time.

Cora told him before he left that she was going to leave Banshee that weekend, two days away. He was disappointed, but nodded. Bunker didn't feel like he had the right to tell her to stay when this wasn't her home.

They'd made plans to meet later that night again. Cora was glad Bunker wanted to spend a little more time with her before she left. It made her feel like their attraction was mutual, not just sexual.

~!~

She wasn't meant to meet Bunker until later, and actually at his house, so when she got a phone call from Brock, she was surprised.

He told her to come to the station. Apparently Bunker overreacted and Brock assumed –since he saw them together- that Cora would be able talk some sense into him. She didn't know what happened and Brock didn't go into great detail, but what he said worried her enough she agreed. She wasn't really sure what he thought she could do either, but figured she could probably help.

When she walked through the doors of the Cadi, Cora had meant to ask where either of the officers were, but she didn't have to.

" _I am guys like that!"_ echoed in the background.

Her brows came together curiously. Cora headed for the sound.

She could hear Bunker and Brock talking when she reached the door and saw the older officer through the window. She hesitated to enter but found her footing when she noticed Bunker bowing up on his superior.

Bunker was shaking and not trembling, he was visibly shaking. She could see it from twenty feet away. Maybe she bit off more she could chew when she said she'd help?

"Putting on this uniform doesn't wipe my slate clean." His voice continued to waver as Cora stood in the doorway and listened. "And every once and awhile, I manage to convince myself that I'm a better person." He had calmed, but it was temporary. "But the minute I come into contact with _those fuckin' guys_ ," his voice quivered to the point it was almost hard to hear, "And see the way they look at me, all I feel is hate and anger and I can't shake it."

"Okay," Brock struggled to think of something to say. He wanted to keep Bunker as calm as possible, but he didn't know how.

They didn't hear the door open, but heard it slam shut. Both looked at her, but only one held her focus. The moment Bunker's rational mind realized Cora was the one to enter; he turned his back in shame. She wasn't deterred and approached. Brock took a deep breath and tried to act more confident than he felt.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. His body was still so rigid, his voice sounded forced.

"I called her." Brock replied freely.

Bunker turned enough to look at his boss over his shoulder and his expression could only be described as terrified. He looked like a scared little boy and it made Brock wonder if he'd done the right thing.

"What happened?" Cora asked.

"Nothing." Bunker kept his back to her. "It's fine. He shouldn't have called you."

Cora glanced to the bearded man and saw him shake his head. He was silently telling her that there was more than 'nothing' wrong.

"Hey," she reached forward and touched his shoulder. Bunker immediately shrugged her away. Cora's brows furrowed tighter than before and she grabbed him again. This time, she didn't let him move away. "Look at me," she said softly.

When he did, she saw his eyes were tinted pink and his cheeks damp with spilt tears. Bunker's jaw was so tight it looked painful, his body was still shaking violently and the belt wrapped around his fist was so tight his knuckles were losing circulation.

Cora gently touched his hands. She felt awful for him and immediately recognized his level of rage. She'd felt it before herself.

"Hey," her voice was soft and soothing. Cora reached up and cupped his cheek with one hand while she held his other. "You need to calm down, okay? You're still shaking."

"I don't think I can." He said through his teeth. It wasn't that he was angry with her, just angry in general and it was affecting him severely.

"Of course you can," she forced a soft smile. "Close your eyes." He looked at her curiously. "Just close your eyes." Hesitantly, Bunker did as she asked. "You lived in Florida right?" he nodded. "Ever go to the beach?" he nodded again. "Okay," Cora kept her voice soft and calm as she spoke. She let go of his cheek and held his hands again. "Picture the water." Bunker's forehead furrowed, but he found himself obliging. "Just watch the waves come in, and back out again." Brock found himself remaining behind to watch. He was curious to see what she planned to do and was surprised Bunker so freely complied. "Now," she said just a hint above a whisper, "I want you to breathe in when the waves fall back and exhale when they crash. Okay?" Bunker nodded again. "In," she said. In his mind, Bunker could see the waves falling back into the ocean and breathed in as a result. "And out," in his mind, the waves crashed against the shore and he exhaled before repeating the process.

Bunker's breaths soon fell to a cadence. Every time he saw the waves fall back he'd breathe in, and exhale when they crashed. Slowly, his body relaxed and he stopped shaking entirely. Brock was surprised to see her technique work, but was happy for it too. When a man Bunker's size loses control of himself like he did, Brock was smart enough to know nothing good would happen.

"There you go," she cooed tenderly. Cora reached up and gently wiped the tears from his cheeks. The action caused him to open his eyes and see her smiling kindly back. "Better?"

He nodded slowly.

"Look, Bunker," Brock said. His voice drew Bunker's eye. "You think you could promise me that what happened out there isn't gonna happen again?"

Bunker's brows came together and despite his size, the tattoos and his obvious rage, he looked again like a little boy.

"I don't know." He said honestly.

"Good," Brock nodded, "Good answer, 'cause if you would've said _yes_ , I would've known you were full of shit."

Both Bunker and Brock let out a weak laugh. The mood was lightened just a hint.

"Look, go home, okay?" Brock said. "Get some sleep." Bunker nodded as best he could and Brock looked to Cora. "Thanks."

She gave him a nod and watched him leave. When the door closed again, her attention went back to the man in front of her, but Bunker wouldn't meet her eye. Cora knew he was embarrassed.

Taking his hands, she began to unwrap his belt from his fist.

"What happened?" she asked softly. Her voice never seemed to reach a normal tone. Instead, it remained low and comforting. Bunker wondered if it was just for him.

"I don't want to talk about it." He said under his breath. And he didn't. Bunker was afraid he'd lose control again.

"Okay," she nodded. Cora finished removing the belt and noticed the deep gouges left behind. She said nothing about it. Instead, she reached up and gently trailed the back of her finger down his cheeks and wiped away the tear trails. He finally looked at her. "Want to get drunk?"

Another weak, breathy laugh left his lips and Bunker nodded. Cora returned the action before doing something that surprised him further. She threaded her arms around his shoulders and hugged the young deputy. Bunker found himself hesitating at first, but soon wrapped his bear arms around her and held tight.

She cradled the back of his head and gently raked her fingernails against his buzzed scalp while he buried his face into her shoulder. Cora pitied him more than a normal person might. She knew what it was to be that angry and there was nothing more terrifying. It was that level of anger where things went black and when you woke, you had done something horrible.

They stayed that way for a few minutes before Cora pulled back. She gave him another kind smile before taking his hand in hers.

"Come on,"

Bunker nodded again and followed her back into the station. Brock glanced sideways at them as they passed. He was glad to see Bunker much calmer than before. He wasn't sure what would have happened otherwise.


	6. Chapter 6

**I am SO sorry it's taken this long to update this story! I could give excuses, but life. lol. Just life. I hope you like it and let me know!**

 **Chapter 6**

Bunker and Cora were lying in his bed. She was leaning against the headboard while he was in her 'lap'. Clearly, someone his size wouldn't fit, but Bunker was leaning with his back against Cora, her arms draped over his shoulders and legs wrapped loosely around his body.

Neither of them had spoken for awhile because there wasn't much need for it. Instead, Cora tenderly ran her thumb across his chest while Bunker raked his fingernails along her shin.

"I'm sorry,"

It had been so long since anyone spoke that the voice was surprising. Bunker felt the need to apologize.

"Why?" she asked softly. Cora was right by his ear and didn't want to talk louder than a whisper.

"I don't like people seeing me like that." He admitted.

Cora smiled lightly to herself. She adjusted her arms around his shoulders and hugged him as best she could from her position.

"You don't have to apologize," she said honestly, "Least of all to someone like me, especially after what happened with Doug."

They fell into silence again as both realized how screwed up their respective lives were. Both of them had need to apologize, but at the same time didn't. What happened over the passed few days wasn't entirely either of their faults.

"I'd ask if you want to join me," Cora sighed, "but I know you won't."

Bunker tenderly shook his head.

"Banshee's my home." He replied. "I can't leave yet."

He felt her nod. Cora offered for Bunker to come with her when she left town the following day, but he refused. She wasn't surprised, but she had hoped he'd join her.

"Why don't you stay here?" He said after a lengthy silence.

She didn't answer at first, but found herself thinking about it.

Their relationship had started out as nothing more than sex. Cora was completely willing to keep it that way, but their lives intruded on their time together and forced them to learn more about the other than they initially meant to. As a result, they realized how much they had in common.

Leaving didn't feel like it would be as easy as she thought originally.

~!~

A sudden shock woke her from her sleep. Something smashed against her head so her world spun as she was dragged from bed.

Cora struggled to get her feet under her and focus on what was happening around her, but she couldn't manage much of either. She saw shadows –people- standing in the room, but faces remained blurred. And she was being held up. Someone had wrapped their arms around hers and hooked them behind her back keeping Cora from being able to move.

Two of the shadows suddenly grabbed Bunker and held him to the bed. The young man fought against the ones holding him, but their grips were firm.

His eyes danced around the room until he spotted Cora in the corner. His heart sank. One of the men from the parking lot earlier that day, -one of his former _brothers_ \- was holding her tightly. Cora was trying to focus, but her head continued to dip. In the dim light, Bunker saw a hint of blood trailing down her hairline. The one who held her had clearly bashed her in the head before pulling her out of bed.

A young man stepped closer to the bed and spoke to Bunker, but Cora had trouble making out the words. His voice was low and clouded from her, but it was clear they knew one another.

Suddenly, a flash of orange filled the room and Cora could hear the sound of running gas. Her vision snapped into focus the instant she saw the blowtorch.

"You can't wear that uniform," she heard him say, "And still wear mine."

The stranger headed for Bunker and Cora knew what was going to happen. She began to struggle against the one holding her and scream. Bunker did the same.

The smell of burning flesh filled the air as Bunker screamed. He'd never felt such pain before. Yes the nerve endings were killed quickly, but it wasn't enough. The fire burned through his skin so hot, it was like a knife through butter.

Cora yelled and fought and tried to get away from the one holding her. She wanted to save Bunker. She wanted to get the intruders away from him.

All the while, the Nazis remained calm and stoic.

Bunker slipped into shock. His body did little more than tremble as the fire licked at the last bits of the tattoo. Cora had lost strength, but cried and still tugged to get away.

Eventually, the assailants stepped away from the useless man on the bed. The one with the torch walked away and kept his back to Cora. She figured it was to keep from being identified, but he gave orders.

The one holding her spun Cora around and smashed her face into the drywall. He let her tumble to the floor and left with his friends. Again, Cora was dazed, but more now from the broken nose. Tears filled her eyes, but she had other things to worry about.

She rolled onto her hands and knees and crawled to Bunker's side. She pulled herself onto the bed and saw what was left behind. His chest was raw and open. He was rigid in pain, his jaw was clenched tight and tears streamed down the sides of his face. He refused to look at her and instead stared at the ceiling. Cora grabbed her phone and called 911.

" _What is the nature of your emergency?"_

The voice snapped Cora out of her stupor.

"I need EMS now!" she yelled into the phone. "He's got –oh god- he's got third degree burns or worse." Cora was speaking almost too fast for the operator to understand, but she couldn't help it. Cora was frantic. "He's a Deputy with BPD," being a cop always made them move faster, "And he's going into shock!"

Bunker suddenly reached for Cora. He missed half a dozen times because he had little control over his limbs, but she grabbed his hand and held on.

"Don't," Bunker breathed. He held her hand so tight her fingers hurt, but it didn't matter. He was struggling to speak, "Don't… tell… them." He said through his teeth.

"What?"

"You can't tell them… who did this." He told her. Bunker stared at her with a mixture of fear and assertion. She couldn't believe what he was saying.

Despite reason, Cora felt herself nod and went back to demanding they hurry. In fact, her words were _hurry the fuck up, now!_ Or something even more colorful before giving them the address and hanging up.

Cora held Bunker's hand and did her best to keep him conscious.

"Look at me," she commanded. He had trouble. "Stay awake, okay?" he was shaking so hard and squeezing her hand to the point she was losing feeling. "You have to stay awake." Her brows came together and tears came again, "Please," her voice shook, "Stay awake."

Bunker tried his hardest to do what she wanted, to stay focused and aware, but he couldn't. The pain racing through his body was too much and the room around him was pulsing black. Cora's voice soon began to fade along with his vision. Before the EMTs arrived, Bunker passed out.

~!~

Cora paced in the waiting room for a long time. No one would tell her anything because she wasn't family and they wouldn't stop trying to touch her. Combine that with the fact that she was in a hospital, and Cora was ready to go through her skin. She hated hospitals.

After hearing that the man in the bed was part of the Banshee Sherriff's Department, the hospital was more than willing to contact Bunker's co-workers. Neither Cora nor Bunker knew what was happening back at the station, so they didn't know Brock had become the new boss, only that he was the one to show up.

Brock walked into the waiting room. He saw Cora pacing in an empty spot in the layout behind a row of chairs. She was wearing a large, loose men's shirt and a pair of boxers. She wasn't even wearing shoes.

"Miss Roberts?" he called when he entered the room. She looked up and his stepped paused, "Jesus Christ. What happened?"

On instinct, she touched her upper lip where she felt the dried blood and remembered how she must look.

"Are you okay?" he asked as he rushed her side. Brock almost reached out to have a better look, but she pulled back.

"I'm fine."

"That looks broken."

"Probably." She replied dismissively. She was still on edge, but it had nothing to do with her. She was still too worried about Bunker. Cora had been through trauma similar to his and she knew how dangerous it really was.

"Tell me what the hell happened?" he demanded.

She hesitated for a moment when she remembered what Bunker said. He didn't want them to know who was in the house.

Everything inside her screamed to tell Brock about those sadistic fucks, but she also felt she didn't have the right. Not after Bunker dropped her situation with Stowe. He could have just as easily told the cops about her assault as she could his.

"We were asleep," she began, "Someone hit me and pulled me out of bed. I was dizzy," she motioned to her head. Brock saw the second trail of blood. "Someone had a hold of me and I saw three other guys standing around the bed. Two of them grabbed Kurt, held him down… the third one had a uh…" her stomach turned as she remembered. "He had a blowtorch."

"Jesus," he mumbled. Brock was beginning to feel uneasy too. "Well, who were these guys? Did you see faces? Did you hear names? Did they say _anything_?"

"Not really." She lied. "I mean, I was still a little out of it and then they started… they started burning him and…" Cora shook her head and looked down. She tried to get the sight out of her head, the sounds and smell of burning skin, but they were hard to repress. Clearing her throat, she crossed her arms over her chest and gave Brock her attention again. "The one holding me slammed my face into the wall and they disappeared. I called 911."

"Right," Brock nodded as he thought about what to do. "You need to get checked out."

"I will after _someone tells me what's going on!"_ she yelled at her surroundings, hoping someone heard her.

Brock looked around to see who she might have been yelling at. In truth, it wasn't anyone in particular because there wasn't really anyone around. The waiting room was all but abandoned at the late hour and the only ones who heard her yelling were a few nurses in the background going about their work at the Nurse's Station.

"Okay," Brock nodded, "Stay here. I'll figure this shit out."

Cora nodded and watched his disappear, but returned to pacing almost immediately. She was so filled with nervous energy, she couldn't do much else. And again, she _hated_ hospitals. They reminded her of when she was hurt.

When Brock finally returned, he told Cora that Bunker was still in surgery. While there wasn't a great deal they had to fix, there was a lot they had to clean and the majority of what the docs were charged with was stabilizing Bunker.

What would happen was this. The doctors would inspect the wound. That would mean they'd clean it and cut away the dead flesh and see how much damage was really done. After that –and during- they'd pump Bunker full of antibiotics to keep the open wound from being infected and inject all other kinds of medicine and fluids. Then came the stabilizing. They'd make sure his vitals were good, that he was on oxygen and ensure his wound didn't get infected.

If it was as bad as she thought it was, eventually they'd graft skin and that was a whole different list of problems.

After Brock told her what they were doing for Bunker, he managed to convince her to let the doctors take a look at her too. From the bash to the head, Cora had a minor concussion and needed two stitches. The doctor said it looked like she was hit with something hard and curved, like the base of a propane tank. And, like they assumed, her nose was broken.

At some point, Brock told Cora she should head home, but she didn't. She didn't intend to go anywhere until she was sure Bunker was okay.

~!~

Plans to leave Banshee had taken a backburner for obvious reasons. Cora wasn't going to leave.

Bunker was finally awake and allowed visitors. Brock made sure the staff knew Cora was allowed visitation for which she thanked him. It was something he didn't have to do, but did anyway. She was grateful.

Brock was already there when Cora made her way to visit Bunker. He was standing close to the tent when she entered the room. Cora had given the two a moment before making herself known.

"Hey," he greeted. While the effort was polite, Brock still held a disturbed undertone. "I'll uh, I'll give you guys a minute."

Cora nodded her thanks and let him leave before she headed for the tent. Bunker had seen her enter and his heart monitor reflected as much. It was fast when Brock was there –powered by shame and embarrassment- but it grew a hint faster for her too.

Bunker wished he wasn't attached to a machine that betrayed him as easily as a heart monitor when he saw Cora. In most cases, he'd be glad to see her and that would be the cause of the beeps. But this time it was sadness that drove the machine.

When he saw her, Cora was badly bruised. The marks on her throat were fading –which were bad enough- but her face was all different shades of purple and brown.

The bruises centered on her bandaged nose and spread beneath her eyes. To anyone who cared to look, it was clear Cora had been hit in the face hard. He felt guilty for being the cause and couldn't keep from silently expressing it.

She didn't notice. Cora's attention was on his chest. Her brows came together as she stared at the open, angry wound. Instinctively, her hand came to her side. She could feel the fire tearing at her skin as clearly as it had the day she was injured, and all because she saw him.

Hesitantly, she met his gaze. Bunker wasn't surprised to see her eyes tinted pink –he had before- but the tears that actually escaped were something new. He'd never seen her cry before and now she was, for him. Despite her injuries, Cora was crying for him.

"I'm sorry," she muttered just loud enough he could hear. His brows furrowed and rose. He didn't understand. "I should've fought back, or something. I'm sorry."

Her voice hitched when she spoke. Bunker couldn't believe she was actually taking this on as her fault.

He shook his head as best his tethered form would allow, which wasn't much. He wanted to speak, or somehow make her realize that this was all his fault, but he couldn't.

Cora opened her mouth to speak again, but there was a light knock on the door. Attention naturally shifted towards the sound. It was Brock.

"Sorry to interrupt," he felt compelled to say, "But uh, Miss Roberts?" she nodded, waited for him to speak as he walked closer. Brock held his cell phone to his chest. "Did uh… did you serve in the Army?"

She narrowed her eyes in confusion at the random question.

"Yeah, why?" she replied.

"Uh," it was clear even Brock couldn't believe what was transpiring. "CID wants to talk to you."

He offered her the phone. Still confused –like everyone in the room- she took the cell phone and pressed it to her ear.

Evidently, after the trouble on Camp Genoa, the CID did their best to notify the next of kin. It took a little longer to find Cora than they expected because she went by her mother's maiden name, but when they found it and ran it, they found out she'd been arrested so they contacted the Sherriff, Brock. It was just a coincidence that she happened to be in the same place as him.

"Yeah?" she asked. Bunker and Brock both watched her curiously. To their surprise, she didn't seem amused. "Thanks."

Without another word –and sounding anything but grateful- Cora ended the call and handed Brock his cell phone again.

"Thanks," she told the new Sherriff as she handed back the phone. She sounded nicer to him. Cora turned her attention back to Bunker. "I have to go. Doug's dead, or something." She shrugged. Bunker's expression shifted to the appropriate emotion, shock. "I'll come by later."

Cora hesitated to leave. She looked like she wanted to hug him, or do something, but there was nothing she could do with him behind the plastic tent. Instead, she found herself waving.

"I'll take you to the station." Brock replied.

Cora nodded and followed the Sherriff out. She glanced once more to Bunker before disappearing through the door.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Season 4 premiere

Everything changes. That's the only constant in the world. Everything changes.

Cora found herself in Banshee after being gone for just over a year and a half. It was… strange.

She stood against the exterior wall of a building and waited for the one she sought to arrive. It wouldn't take long now. She heard the footsteps.

Carrie was walking to her car. She spotted the young woman on her cell phone, but paid her little to no attention. Cora glanced up and gave Carrie a light smile as one tended to do when a stranger passed. Carrie returned the sentiment and continued on her way.

"Oh hey," Cora called when Carrie was a few feet passed her. The other young woman paused and turned to face the one who called her. "You're Mrs. Hopewell, right?"

Carrie was on edge and eyed Cora suspiciously.

"Who are you?"

"Cora Roberts." She said. Her smile went from kind to a bit forced. "You used to fuck my brother." Carrie raised a single brow. "Doug Stowe." Her face dropped, but she remained calm. "So," Cora took steps closer, "were you the one that killed him?"

"Look," Carrie said, "I don't know who you think I am, but you have the wrong person."

Carrie turned and started to walk away, but Cora met her in step. She followed the blond.

"I've been retracing everything they gave me," she continued to talk as she followed Carrie, "and even looked into a few things myself. So, did he find out? Is that why you did it?" Carrie remained silent, but her fists were starting to clench. If Cora didn't leave now, a fight would begin. "Did you kill him because he found out you stole his cash?"

Carrie reacted before she thought, but she was still full of adrenaline and couldn't help it.

She stopped in step and swung her arm back. Cora leaned away from the swipe and felt the air shift passed her nose because of it.

With the momentum she already had, Carrie swung her leg next. Cora reached up, blocked the kick and the fight began. Each was nimble and light on their feet. They knew how to twist and turn and avoid being hit.

Carrie pulled out the asp she had in her pocket and landed a fierce blow to Cora's ribcage. The young woman called out in pain, but didn't stop. When Carrie swung again, Cora caught her arm and twisted her wrist. Carrie cried out and dropped the asp, which Cora promptly kicked away from them.

Their fight didn't go undetected by the populace despite the late hour. Someone heard the yells and sounds of people hitting cars and called the cops. Their fight had spilled into the street and as a result, they were pushed or thrown into vehicles on the street. Naturally, car alarms went off and people noticed.

The two remained ignorant to the outside world, however, even as two cop cars pulled up flashing their lights. Brock got out of one, a young woman from the other.

"Freeze!" Brock yelled as he aimed his weapon. He started towards the pair.

Immediately, Cora and Carrie stopped fighting and threw their hands into the air. Both were bloody, their hair and clothes were messed and they were breathing heavily. Brock couldn't believe his eyes.

"Mrs. Hopewell?" he asked in shock, "And Miss Roberts? The hell's going on here?"

"Hey Brock," Carrie sighed.

"Nothing, Sheriff." Cora said. "Just sparring."

His face dropped, but his gun remained up.

"Sparring?" he repeated in a deadpan voice. "In the middle of the street."

Cora nodded.

"Urban environment." She openly lied. "Best way to practice."

"Really?" he couldn't remove his skeptical tone. "Cause it looked like the two of you were _really_ going after each other."

"Best way to learn." Carrie said. She shared a sideways glance with Cora and immediately jumped in on the lie.

"Okay," he snapped as he shook his head. Brock didn't believe either of them. "Well, the two of you are coming with me until I can figure something out. Mrs. Hopewell, you're coming with me. Cruz," he motioned to Cora.

Neither woman put up resistance as they were handcuffed and put into the back of their respective cars.

~!~

When they reached the new station house, Cora and Carrie were lead inside. They drew curious stares for obvious reasons. Two beautiful women with blood all over their faces tended to do that.

Attention fell to the pair. Officers watched as they came in and one in particular commented on it. Bunker was on his way out of the back with a file in his hand when he saw Carrie and Cora being led to the back. He spotted the blond in the lead first.

"Mrs. Hopewell?" he was surprised to see her. Then the dark-haired woman behind Carrie came into view and Bunker's expression fell. "Cora?"

She looked at him with laser focus. All kindness was gone from her blue eyes. If anything, they looked darker than normal now that they were clouded with anger.

"How's it going, _Bunk_?" she asked as she was pushed passed him. Cora never called him by his last name, no matter the abbreviation. It was either Deputy, or Kurt. Never Bunk or Bunker.

Her voice was as cold as her eyes when it came to the man who used to share her bed. Her gaze remained fixed to his until she was pushed by and tossed into a cell.

Cora and Carrie were put side by side. While the cages were big enough to put them together, considering the situation they were in the middle of when Brock found them, putting them in separate cells was prudent.

Carrie sat on her cot while Cora went to the sink. She turned on the cold water and began to rinse out her mouth. The water she spat out the first few times tinted red. She wasn't surprised.

"I think you chipped a tooth." She replied as she turned the tap off. "And a few ribs," she winced when she sighed.

Cora gave the blond her attention. Carrie sat facing her cell. Her elbows were on her knees as she stared at Cora through tendrils of her hair. Blood ran from her nose.

"And you broke my nose." Carrie said with a dark voice before muttering in another language, _"fucking bitch."_

Cora eyed her blankly. She took steps towards the cell wall they shared. When she reached it, she threaded her arms through the gaps and leaned against it.

"You never answered my question." Cora said before changing language, much to Carrie's shock. " _Did you kill my brother?"_

Carrie didn't bother hiding her surprise. She hadn't expected Cora to speak Russian. It wasn't a language normal people tended to learn, like Spanish, for example. Trouble was, Cora was about as 'normal' as everyone else who came to visit Banshee.

However, the shared ability to speak another language didn't mean Carrie trusted the other young woman enough to answer her.

Cora continued to stare at the blond and waited for an answer, but one didn't seem to be on its way. She narrowed her eyes on the widow. It was clear Carrie assumed Cora was trying to trap her some way.

"He was a dick," Cora began, "And a sadist and honestly, I only ask because I wanted to know if you made it painful."

Carrie narrowed her gaze on the young woman hanging off the bars of her cell. Cora looked as disheveled as she did, but instead of a bloody nose, Cora's lip was split wide open and her chin was crimson.

"Bullshit." Carrie finally said. It was the first time she'd said anything after calling Cora a bitch. "You really expect me to believe you don't care someone killed your brother?"

Cora shrugged a single shoulder.

"I don't give a shit what you believe." She replied simply. "Honestly, I wanted it to be you." A wicked smirk began to form. Again she changed tongue considering the subject matter and where they were. " _I wanted his girlfriend to be the one who stole all his fucking cash then killed him."_

Carrie didn't say anything further. Cora sighed and shrugged again. She stepped away from the cage wall and headed for her bunk to sit.

"Whatever." She said as she sat. "But telling me is the least you could do after getting us arrested."

Carrie perked.

" _I_ got us arrested?" she snapped.

Cora nodded.

"You struck first." Cora kept her tone far too casual for Carrie's liking, but both somehow knew the arrest wouldn't last. It was little more than an inconvenience. "I just wanted to talk to you. You're the one who swung."

Carrie glared angrily from her spot in her cell. Cora didn't notice, or really care.

When she sat, Cora couldn't get comfortable. Carrie definitely broke ribs.

With a grumble and a sigh, she stood again and returned to pacing. Grabbing the hem of her shirt, Cora lifted the fabric. Stretched across her side was a brilliant purple bruise, no more than two inches thick and angry. It formed quickly which only gave more credence to how hard Carrie had hit her.

"Son of a bitch," she growled. Cora gently probed the welted bruise and winced again. She turned an angry glare to Carrie. "Seriously?" she snapped.

But Carrie's eyes weren't on the bruise. At first, sure, but they didn't linger there. She was more focused on what the bruise crossed. Cora noticed the surprise and horror on Carrie's face wasn't aimed at the mark she left behind.

"You like that?" she asked for a hint of sarcasm. "That's Doug's handiwork."

Carrie's eyes shot to hers and her jaw went lax.

"Yeah," Cora nodded as she lowered her shirt again. "Since you _barely know_ Doug, I can fill you in on the kind of man he was." She said derisively before changing to Russian once more. " _A few years back, he had me and a few others_ _find_ _some cash for him. To cover his tracks, he blew up the humvee we were in. None of us were supposed to survive._ That's the kind of man he was."

"Jesus," Carrie breathed.

The widow was at a loss. She felt she should have said something, but she didn't know what.

Cora went back to her cot and this time lay down. Sitting was too painful with the bruise and broken ribs. Perhaps she should have been skeptical and weary about telling a total stranger a rather personal detail, but it explained why she was there and what would Carrie do, honestly? Cora did her research before coming back. She knew who the 'house-wife' was and knew telling her something like that probably didn't make a dent in Carrie's 'weird shit' list.

The two prisoners sat in silence for a little while before one of the deputies decided to come and speak with them.

"Hey Bunker," Carrie sighed heavily. She was getting a little tired. It was late, after all.

Cora felt a jolt at the name, but didn't acknowledge him.

"Mrs. Hopewell," he greeted with a nod. His eyes slowly traveled to Cora, but she hadn't bothered looking up. "Cora," she didn't even flinch. His stomach fell and twisted in knots, but he pressed passed it. "Are either of you pressing charges?"

"No," Cora replied.

"No," Carrie said.

He nodded slowly and reached for his keys. Bunker unlocked Cora's door first and slid it open before doing the same with Carrie's. Each of them stood and headed for the way out.

"I hear whiskey's a good cure for a broken nose." Cora said loudly enough for Carrie to hear.

"And broken ribs."

They met at the cage door.

"First round's on me." Cora offered.

"Deal," Carrie replied with a light smile. She looked to Bunker, "Thanks."

He gave her a light nod and turned his attention back to Cora. Her eyes finally met his. Bunker's brows came together and his mouth hung open for a second as he thought of what to say.

"Officer," she said icily before walking away with Carrie.

He felt his blood run cold as she eyed him in passing. Bunker wanted to speak, but again, the words just wouldn't come. Instead, he found himself stuck standing in front of the cells and watching the pair walk away.

So much had changed in little over a year…

~!~

Sugar poured the two bloody and beaten young women another shot and took one himself. He continued to eye them skeptically as they raised a drink to one another and downed the burning liquid in one gulp. Cora hissed as the alcohol licked at her busted lip. It stung more than it did going down her throat.

Conversation had come more easily than it did in the prison cell, but Cora was only half into the discussion. While she replied and contributed, her mind was divided between the people she was surrounded by and the one she'd seen only an hour prior. Within every slight lull in conversation, Cora's mind would drift to the last time she'd seen Bunker.

 _Food was splattered across the damaged wall, broken glass littered the floor beneath the stains and the room had fallen into death-like silence. Cora's eyes were trained on the back of Bunker's head. He didn't have to turn around to know, either. He felt them burning into him. His words still hung in the air, unwilling to dissipate and lingering even after the out burst that caused him to break his dishes._

" _Fine," her voice was soft – not a whisper, but lower than normal- and still it made his insides jump just as if she'd screamed._

 _Cora stepped around him and grabbed her purse from the table. She shook loose some of the food that had fallen onto it when the dishes exploded against the wall, and left without looking back._

 _Bunker remained in the kitchen, stoic and unmoving even after he heard the front door slam violently. His heart sank and his stomach twisted with knots. He felt retched, more so than he thought possible, but it had to be done. He couldn't be around her anymore._

She twisted the empty shot glass gently along the lacquered surface of the bar. Cora had originally come to Banshee only to get answers about Stowe's death, not revenge and not for nostalgia's sake. Running into Bunker was something she hadn't planned on. When she left, she never intended to see him again for this reason exactly. Cora never wanted to think about him again, and here he was, _infecting_ her thoughts.

Sugar waving the bottle in front of her again brought Cora out of her thoughts. She nodded and he poured her another shot. For the remainder of her time at the bar, Cora did her best to forget about Bunker.

~!~

Bunker sat on the edge of his bed. He'd only just gotten home from work and hadn't changed out of his uniform yet. Hell, he was still wearing his gun, but it didn't matter. He was too busy thinking about Cora.

Seeing her was more of a shock than he thought it would be. He'd thought about her often in her months away, and often thought about reaching out. He thought about a lot of things, but not how seeing her again would feel.

It felt awful.

Seeing her led through the precinct in handcuffs was a shock in and of itself. Her chin was smeared with blood from the cut on her lip, her hair messed and clothes ripped and bruises were forming on her skin. After spotting Carrie then her, Bunker knew the two must have been going at it rather hard.

But all of that fell to the background. It was the look in her eyes, the anger and hurt that she clearly felt, that stuck with him. She was so cold… and he couldn't blame her for it.

The last time they saw each other, he'd been mean. He had yelled and thrown a 'tantrum' (for lack of a better word). He'd said things he shouldn't have and threw dinner against the wall when he had. Her anger was reasonable, but it still hurt to see.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

By the end of the night, Cora made her way slowly, painfully -drunkily- to her hotel room. She had the cabby stop off at a 24-hour drugstore so she could buy some supplies and then back to her room. She gave him a substantial tip for it too, and fell onto her bed immediately. In the morning, she'd clean herself off, but the moment her head touched the stiff mattress, Cora was dead to the world.

~!~

When she woke the following morning, the pain and stiffness the alcohol had taken away the night before came back with a vengeance. Her face hurt, her body hurt and she as disturbingly aware that Carrie had broken ribs. Worse yet, she was hungover.

With a groan, she pushed herself up and sloppily headed for the shower. She felt disgusting, a bit sticky and just… well, she felt gross.

In the shower, the warm water was a welcomed relief, as was the soap on her scalp. Some didn't realize just how revitalizing a simple shower could be. It literally felt like she washed away everything that happened the night before, including her seeing Bunker again. It felt like everything was being wiped from her skin and sent down to the drain to disappear forever. It was a foolish thought, obviously, and she knew would do nothing when she left the molding stall, but for those few moments, it was a nice reprieve.

Eventually, Cora exited, wrapped herself in one of the cheap little towels and headed back into the main living space. She found the supplies she bought the night before and hadn't remembered. In the plastic bag was a gel icepack, rolls of wide bandages and some disinfectant to clean her face.

Fine. That'd work.

~!~

Bunker sat at his desk tapping his pencil repeatedly against the surface as he thought. He was still fuming after his run-in with Calvin when he left his house, anxious because every time he saw his brother he remembered he was fucking the man's wife, and on edge because he'd seen Cora after so long.

His nerves were frayed and only seemed to be getting worse and worse, no matter how often he tried to calm down. He felt like he was standing in the middle of a minefield, surrounded by explosives and well aware that if he moved in the wrong direction, he'd die. The line he was walking was so razor thin, he couldn't even see it. He just had to trust he was still on the right path, and honestly, he didn't. Bunker was walking blind.

After his head began to ache, Bunker made his way upstairs to talk to Brock. The Sheriff was sitting at his desk going over some paperwork when the young deputy knocked. Brock glanced up and waved him in.

"What can I do for you, Bunker?" he asked as his gaze went back to the files.

"Sir, uh," Bunker hesitated slightly, "I was hoping I could take some personal time. Only an hour."

Brock's eyes drifted back to his deputy. He saw how tall Bunker stood, how straight and proper, but he could see how nervous and uncomfortable the young man was.

"This have anything to do with Miss Roberts?"

Bunker flinched, but reluctantly replied, "Yes, sir."

The Sheriff nodded a few times as he thought about letting one of his men randomly disappear for a little while. He didn't want to, but he could clearly see how distracted Bunker was and knew that perhaps it would be the best way to get his officer to focus.

"Okay, but just an hour." He said before returning to his work.

"Thank you, sir."

Bunker saw Brock nod absently before he left. He felt better about the prospect of settling some of his guilt, but also knew a fight was coming the moment he saw her again. At least, he hoped a fight was coming. It was the lesser of two evils. He'd rather she yell because the indifference was painful.

~!~

Cora had placed the gel-pack in the mini-fridge's freezer some time ago and knew it was about as frozen as she was willing to let it get. She planned to wrap her ribs and use the icepack to both keep down any further swelling, and the pain of the attack.

Wrapping one's broken ribs was a common practice, but she never understood it. It wasn't as though the action actually helped set the bones like it would with anything else. Perhaps it was because the light tension felt better? That was the only reason she planned to do it now, because being tightly ensconced in the Ace Bandages would actually alleviate some of the pain she felt.

Wearing a thinly strapped shirt and pants, Cora gathered the three packages of bandages she was going to use. She didn't know if she'd need so many, but she'd rather have them and not need them, than need them and not have them.

Just as she got ready to follow through, there was a knock at her door. Curiously, she approached and cracked it open. Her stomach immediately fell and ice touched the back of her neck when she found Bunker the source. His brows had come together softly as he stared at the young woman slowly revealing herself and stepping out from behind the door.

"Hey, Cora," he forced himself to say.

Her eyes moved up and down the man-in-uniform before settling on his boy-like face. She did her best to remain blank.

"What do you want?" she asked coldly.

His brows twitched again at her icy demeanor, but he wasn't surprised. Why would he be after what happened the day she left Banshee?

As he stood on her front step and did his best to think of a reason as to why she should let him in, he noticed the bruises were more pronounced than the night before. Her bottom lip was a bit swollen -not too much-, and her chin was bruised along with a bit of her jaw.

"I just wanna talk." He said finally.

Cora remained emotionless and still for a moment or two before -against her better judgment- she stepped aside and let Bunker into her hotel room. He gave her a soft nod of thanks in response.

She watched him closely and felt her back tense at his proximity. Shaking the feeling away, Cora let the weighted door close on its own, stepped around the deputy and approached the second bed in her room where the supplies rested.

Cora went about her business leaving Bunker to wonder what he was doing. He wanted to speak, but didn't have the chance. With her back to him, Cora removed her thinly-strapped shirt and stood before him in nothing but a bra. She wasn't concerned given it was nothing he hadn't seen before, and she didn't have to look at him. Bunker -on the other hand- was temporarily disarmed for obvious reasons. As he tried to divert his eyes and look anywhere else, he noticed an impressive bruise stretching across her side.

"Jesus," he breathed at the sight of it.

Cora glanced only briefly over her shoulder to see him eying the bruise left behind by Carrie's asp. She said nothing, only reached for her bandages.

"The hell happened?" he asked in genuine concern.

"Nothing." Cora replied as she began to wrap her torso. "Why are you here?"

"I…" he hesitated, "I wanted to talk to you."

She immediately scoffed a derisive sound.

"Talk," she muttered sarcastically to herself. When Cora reached the end of the short bandage, she used the Velcro ends to fasten it and grabbed the second. "Now he wants to talk," she continued to say primarily to herself, "Fuck the last two years, _now_ you want to talk."

Bunker tensed his jaw and chewed on the inside of his cheek.

"I just wanted to explain."

Cora spun on her heel quickly to face him and she was angry.

"Explain what, exactly?" she snapped with a growing anger. "That you're a complete fucking asshole? Or did you want to add some more shit to your laundry list of my flaws? Hm?"

"It's not like that."

"Right," she scoffed again before returning to her task.

His frustration was growing. Bunker was filled with not only regret and guilt, but anger at her increasingly glib attitude towards him. He felt he deserved something, even if he really didn't.

"You didn't need to be around me, okay?" he said tersely. She looked at him through her lashes as she fastened the bandage. "No one did. I was broken."

" _That's_ your excuse for the shit you said? Are you fucking kidding me?" she dared.

"It's the truth."

"No shit!" she yelled. "I knew you were, and so was I, you idiot." Her voice calmed just a bit. "We were broken together, though."

Cora's head dipped and Bunker felt cold in his chest. He'd finally gotten an emotional response, but it wasn't one he wanted to deal with. Cora was sad, and it was his fault.

"Just go, Bunker." She told him as she again turned her back.

Cora approached the mini-fridge and removed the gel pack before retrieving her final bandage.

He wanted to remain and figure things out, but Cora made it pretty clear that she was done with the conversation. With nothing else to do, he finally left her hotel room.

He'd gone there with the hopes of straightening out his mind, but he was wrong. He left more confused and guilt-ridden than when he'd arrived, and he knew he only had himself to blame.

~!~

 **Before Leaving Banshee:**

Bunker was lying in bed, propped up by a mound of pillows while Cora tended to him. He watched as she tenderly pressed the tape to his chest to secure the gauze in place. He didn't know why she did it and for some reason, couldn't let himself be glad for it. Instead, he felt disgusting, like he was some decrepit creature that had to be tended to.

But he did have a question he wanted to ask her.

"Does it ever stop hurting?" he asked.

Cora tenderly shook her head as she gave the gauze a once-over before turning her eye to him.

"No," she told him honestly, "It'll always tug and pull and sometimes it'll be sore for no reason, but it gets manageable."

He felt himself nod.

The doctors hadn't given him much of an idea when he asked repeatedly when the pain would stop. They just gave the same recycled answers and that became annoying fast. But he thought Cora might know. She'd been through something similar and had the scars to prove it, so he hoped she'd give him something.

He answer, however, -while appreciated- wasn't what he wanted to hear.

Bunker kept watching Cora as she went through the motions of gathering his medicine in the palm of her hand.

She'd come to visit him for an hour every day while he was in the hospital. Every day. Not even Brock did that, though to be fair, perhaps he didn't because Cora did.

She kept him apprised of what was happening in the city while he was gone, of what happened at the office, and when he was out of the tent, she'd simply sit beside him. Bunker felt better for her presence, but also guilty. She'd wanted to leave Banshee, and what happened that night at his house only kept her there longer.

She was there to take him home, there to care for his wound. She was there to cook his food and get him to take his medicine. She was there to do any and everything he needed, and despite being grateful, he almost began to hate her for it.

Why did she have to give a shit? Why did she have to care for him? Didn't she know that was exactly why Calvin targeted her in the first place?

After nearly a month of helping him after returning from the hospital, Bunker's paranoia and anger took over and he erupted.

As Cora brought him a plate of food and set it on the kitchen table in front of him, Bunker's emotions finally took control.

"You should go." He said.

Cora paused. She turned and gave the young man her attention. He'd spoken so softly, she wasn't sure he formed actual words or growled.

"What?"

"You should go." He repeated loud enough for her to hear.

"Go where?" she didn't understand his random demand.

"Get out. I don't want you here anymore."

Her face twisted in confusion.

"What are you-"

Without warning, Bunker stood and in one swift action launched his plate towards the wall. It exploded immediately, sending glass and food everywhere. Cora jumped.

"Leave!" he yelled when he faced her again. "The fuck are you even still doing here, huh? I thought you were supposed to leave Banshee months ago."

"You know why I'm still here." Her jaw was tight when she spoke.

"No I don't. I'm not your fucking responsibility, Jesus." Bunker turned his back to her. Cora began to shake she was so angry. "We're not friends. I don't give a shit about you. Christ, you were just a piece of ass, get the fuck over yourself. You're not that important, so just leave."

The room went almost deathly silent. Bunker was well aware she was staring at him and her rage was growing. He could feel it.

"Okay," Cora finally said.

She left a moment later and that was the last time he spoke to her until she was arrested again over a year-and-a-half later.

Every day that followed his outburst was filled with thoughts of Cora and the guilt he felt at them. He didn't want to say what he had. He was mean and deliberately cruel because he had no choice. Bunker was scared, and pushing her away was the only thing he could think to do.

Bunker knew his brother and the Brotherhood would come for him again and he didn't want Cora anywhere near him when they did. He wanted her far away and safe, but knew she wouldn't do it on her own. If the past three months were any indication, she would choose to remain at his side and care for him, because she was a good person. He couldn't let her do that, especially when they'd already attacked her.

That was another reason behind what he'd done. Bunker still felt tremendous guilt over her injuries that night. Clearly, Calvin and his goons didn't have a problem attacking anyone near Bunker, and that terrified him.

She might hate him for a while, but Bunker wanted Cora safe. If she got hurt again because of him, he wasn't sure he could forgive himself. Once was bad enough.

So, he yelled at her. He said things he didn't believe, made her feel as bad as possible and hated himself deeply for it.

He was still nestled deeply within his resentment when Maggie came around. Her offer to take care of him and her immediate flirtations helped alleviate some of the anger he felt. For a little while, he let her be his surrogate. He let Maggie be his alternate Cora and in the process, fucked himself over severely. Not only had he begun an affair with his brother's wife, but Bunker was plotting against him with Maggie's encouragement.

Worse yet, Bunker was well aware of the fact that Cora was the reason he was with Maggie in the first place. Perhaps the _only_ reason, actually. He'd become so accustomed to having someone beside him in bed, someone to care about, and who cared about him, that when Maggie showed even the slightest interest in him, he leapt at the chance even though he knew it was wrong.

Bunker hadn't had a 'girlfriend' he cared about since his youth, and he used the term girlfriend loosely. He and Cora never put a label on what they had, but he didn't know how else to classify their relationship. They got along surprisingly well, had a great deal in common, had weathered shit storms alongside each other and never once did she care about his past and the marks across his skin. What else could he really call her?

And he destroyed it all with a few choice words, but it was for her own good… That's what he told himself and maybe someday he'd believe it.

~!~

 **Present:**

Cora was lying in bed with her torso bound and the third bandage keeping the icepack in place. She'd taken some ibuprofen to hopefully take the dull throb away, but was well aware that it wouldn't do shit when she actually chose to move.

As she lay there staring at the ugly ceiling, Cora replayed her last meeting with Bunker before she left the sleepy hamlet. She hadn't let him know at the time, but it hurt to hear him speak to her like that. Through their months together -even before he was hurt- she began to care about him. In fact, if given the chance, Cora may have grown to actually love Bunker at some point.

Cora had never felt a connection with another human being before -not really at least- until Kurt Bunker. It was rare for her which made his words even worse. They cut her deeply. Obviously, her feelings towards him weren't returned and he made that abundantly clear.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

It took seventeen months for Cora to find out for sure what happened to her brother, and that was all the time she planned to devote to the task. The only reason she'd done so was because she knew the CID was lying to her, or they didn't know the truth. She didn't do it because she loved him, because she wanted to avenge him or whatever ridiculous other reason people who actually cared about family would use -she did it for resolution. Cora hated questions and just wanted to know what happened, nothing more. She didn't care, just wanted to know.

Surprisingly -or not, depending on the angle you looked at it- the investigation brought her back to Banshee and gave Cora a chance to do something else she'd been thinking about for some time now. She planned to find the men who attacked her and Bunker that night. She planned to have some fun with the one who'd slammed her face into the wall and the ones who held Bunker while he was being burned. While he might not have wanted to go after them, or really tell her who the strangers were at the time, he would now. Cora wanted the information, and she would get it.

Cora pulled into a spot in front of the new police precinct and parked. She dismounted her motorcycle and headed inside as she pulled her helmet off. Thank god she'd taken a handful of meds with a shot of whiskey because otherwise she'd feel every jostle of her ribs.

The building was bustling as it tended to, but even Cora was well aware that the law had become little more than a joke in the past year, ever since Proctor took over. She didn't know the man or what he did, only that he had his fingers in everything, was an asshole, and fancied himself the best of the worst. Maybe he was, she didn't care.

As she walked into the station, Cora caught sight of Bunker. He was at his desk typing something and didn't notice her until she was close. His face dropped.

"Cora," he stammered, clearly surprised she'd shown up. "What are you doing here?"

"I need names."

His brows came together.

"Why? For what?"

She did her best to keep her expression blank. She didn't want to like standing near him or seeing him again, and reminding herself of what he said last year was a good way to achieve that indifference.

"I want to know who was there that night."

"I don't know what-" Bunker suddenly stopped himself.

At first, he didn't understand what she meant, but then a thought came to him and it was more disturbing than he would have liked to admit. With a tight jaw, he took Cora's arm and guided her away from the majority of the populace. When they were safely tucked away from the eyes and ears that surrounded them, he let her go.

"Why?"

She cocked a sarcastic brow, but said nothing. Bunker's jaw tensed further.

"No." he said sternly. "You don't want to do that."

"Oh, I think I do."

"Why?" he demanded under his breath. "You don't know the shit that would rain down on you if you go after them."

Cora took a half-step closer to help instill her point.

"And you don't know the shit I will rain down if you don't. If I have to do this by myself, I will be loud, I promise."

Bunker ran his hand along his head as he tried to think of anything that might dissuade her from the revenge she seemed bent of getting.

"I can't." he finally said. She scoffed. "I can't, Cora. Calvin'll-"

He quickly silenced himself again, but Cora heard him. She narrowed her eyes.

"Who's Calvin?"

He chewed on the inside of his cheek and looked anywhere that wasn't at the woman in front of him.

"Kurt," she hissed sharply to get his attention. Hesitantly, he looked at her again. "Who is Calvin?"

He stared down at her and into her crystal blue eyes. He hated that he still cared about her, hated that he still remembered all of the good times they once had, and hated that he felt compelled to tell her.

"My brother." He said to her surprise. "And the one who burned me."

Cora's eyes went wide, her jaw slacked and she took a step back as though that would help her come to terms with what he'd said. Instinct told her he had to be lying, but the intense look in his eyes told her otherwise. She could see his anger, embarrassment and resentment. She could see that even he hated that his brother was so twisted, and that's what made her believe him.

"Jesus," she mumbled. "I thought you didn't want to say anything because they were skinheads, or because you planned to do something about it, not because he was your brother."

"Yeah," he sighed. "You can't do this, Cora. Calvin's dangerous."

Her focus sharpened again and he noticed.

"I want the three, the ones with him. Give me their names and I promise I won't touch your brother."

His brows came together tightly.

"Cora,"

"Names, Kurt." She interrupted. "If you want it quiet, names."

He mulled over her ultimatum. Bunker didn't want to give her anything. He was afraid she'd get hurt. He was afraid she wouldn't be able to handle the guys she sought. He was afraid Calvin would find out and hunt her down.

He was simply afraid for her, but it didn't seem to matter what he felt. Bunker could see her determination and he believed her when she said she would make her inquiry loud and noticeable.

Reluctantly, he felt himself nod. He didn't know why he offered to give her the information she wanted, but deep down he did. Bunker knew -in the deep recesses of his mind- that he did it in order to gain some kind of forgiveness. Maybe if he gave her what she wanted, she'd forgive him for the way he treated her.

~!~

Bunker took the information to Cora's hotel room after he got off work. He already knew the men by name, but got her their addresses. The entire time, he kept thinking about how stupid he was acting. Everything in his him screamed it was a bad idea, but he did it regardless.

"Please, Cora," he said as she looked over the addresses, "Don't do this."

She glanced to him only briefly before turning her back and stepping deeper into her room.

"Thank you, Deputy."

His brows pulled together and his stomach sank. His frustration was growing.

"God damn it, Cora, why do you want to do this, hm?" he asked, hoping for some clarity.

She turned to face him with an expression that mirrored her confusion.

"Are you kidding me?" she asked in disbelief. "How can you ask me that, after what they did?"

"You're going to start a war, for that?"

"Yes!" she exclaimed. "Jesus, Kurt. They snuck into your house in the middle of the night, beat the shit out of me and-" she cut herself off briefly. Images of him writhing on the bed, the sound of him screaming and the smell of his burning flesh all pulsated through her so intensely she had to take a moment. When she gathered herself again, Cora met his stare. "They deserve equal treatment."

"Be careful, please."

Her brows came together and she eyed him skeptically. The harsh words left her lips before she could pull them back.

"Like you give a shit what happens to me." She said aggressively.

To her surprise, Bunker seemed taken aback by her blunt words.

"What?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Instead, he was silent.

"Yeah," she muttered in a slightly defeated tone. "That's what I thought." Bunker felt a pit grow in his gut. "Bye, Bunker."

Despite hearing the sadness in her voice when he hadn't refuted her statement, Bunker knew their conversation was over. He couldn't really claim to care about her enough she'd believe him, even though it was the truth.

With a gentle nod, Bunker left her hotel room.

~!~

Brock and Bunker drove to the hospital. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon. Brock was still half-asleep after getting the call so early in the morning, but Bunker was near crashing. He'd worked the midnight shift and was meant to get off around seven, but if this was as bad as dispatch led him to believe, it may be longer.

When the call first came in, Bunker had to admit he was glad to hear the victims were male. He'd given Cora the addresses to their assailants nearly a week ago and hadn't heard from her since. Whether he realized it or not, he'd been waiting for a call saying a young woman matching her description had ended up in a ditch somewhere.

The pair made it to the hospital and met with the lead doctor who'd tended to the three men. What Bunker heard was… disturbing.

"So, what do we got, Doc?" Brock asked as he removed his notepad.

"Come with me, Sheriff." The older man replied.

The man with the white hair guided the two down the hall and towards the ICU. Neither cop was surprised, but what they saw made them collectively sick, and Bunker's stomach turn to knots.

"Jesus," Brock breathed.

The man in the first room had brilliant white bandages wrapped around his head, around his eyes actually, and a hint of blood peeking through. He was bruised and broken in appearance. Clear propaganda marked what little skin was visible and he looked to be heavily sedated.

"Mr. Gellis here," the doctor began, "has had both of his eyes torn out, along with a rather severe beating and the words _Fuck Hitler_ branded into his chest."

Brock's brows rose as he stared at the man in the room.

"Well… that's creative." He muttered.

Bunker barely heard what either of them said. He recognized the man in the bed. It was Otto, one of the three who'd confronted him in the Cadi parking lot and one of the three who'd assaulted him and Cora. In fact, Otto held down Bunker's left arm while Calvin burned him.

The pit in his stomach grew. He felt he knew who the other two were.

The doctor guided them to the next room in the line and inside laid a man with bandages around his head, but the sparse blood was centralized around his ears. His face was also beaten to the point he looked like he'd been hit by a car, just like the first guy.

"Mr. Lennox here," the doctor turned to the appropriate page in his file and began to read, "has had both ears removed, multiple contusions and fractures and the words, _Hitler is a Pussy_ burned into his body."

"I'm sensing a theme here." Brock said.

"Indeed." The doctor agreed as he led them to the final room.

Bunker caught Stefan's eye in passing. The young man in the bed was furious, but looked slightly afraid as he glared through his one un-swollen eye. Stefan was the one who held down Bunker's right arm that night.

"And Mr. Elliot," the doctor again began to read the details of the file, but Brock spoke up first.

"Let me guess," he said as he noticed the bandages keeping the young man's mouth shut. "His tongue was cut out."

"Very good, Sheriff." The doctor nodded. "Along with the same beating the others had received, this one was also beaten in the head, his nose was broken and _Brotherhood Sucks Dick_ branded into him."

Bunker continued to remain silent as he stared through the window at Craig. He was the one who'd held Cora that night, the one that bashed her in the head and slammed her face into the wall. Clearly, she wanted to be sure to do the same before continuing on with the rest of her plan.

"Jesus," Brock sighed. "Well, thanks Doc. I don't suspect any of them are up to talking?" he asked before glancing briefly into the room on his left. "At least those who can."

"You're welcome to speak with them, but they're still heavily sedated so I doubt you'll get much. It'd probably be best to wait until tomorrow."

"Right," he nodded. "Thanks again, Doc."

The doctor nodded and soon left the two alone. Brock joined Bunker's side and returned to staring at the man in the room.

"Correct me if I'm wrong," he said. Bunker tensed on instinct, "But aren't these the same guys you assaulted in the parking lot before you were burned?"

Brock was surprised he remembered the event, but in many ways, it was seared into his memory. Not only had Bunker been so lost in rage that he had to call Cora that day, but Hood quit, the shit-show at Camp Genua happened, and that night Bunker was burned at home. Too many big things happened for him not to remember it.

"Yes, sir." Bunker reluctantly replied.

Brock nodded primarily to himself.

"Well, I'd ask if it was you, but I know it wasn't. You were at work all night, something I can check on security cameras."

"Yes, sir."

"Do you know who did do this?"

Bunker didn't immediately answer, and Brock noticed. He knew whatever was about to come out of the young Deputy's mouth would likely be a lie.

"No, sir."

Yup. It was a lie, but Brock didn't feel the need to press.

"M-hm," he mumbled. Taking a deep breath, Brock crossed his arms over his chest and sighed as he stared at the 'victim'. "Whoever it was, seems to have a flare for the dramatic. Kind of poetic, too. See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil."

"Yes, sir." Bunker muttered. He still hadn't looked away from the man in the hospital bed.

Brock glanced to the man at his side. He could see the anger Bunker harbored, and the complete lack of remorse he felt towards the injured parties. Perhaps he should have been surprised, but he wasn't. In fact, he was glad for it. As bad as it sounded, Brock was glad Bunker didn't feel the slightest pity towards his former brothers.

"They definitely made their feelings towards the Brotherhood clear too, didn't they?"

"Yes, sir." Bunker's jaw was still tight. He couldn't believe Cora would go to such extremes and leave the men alive. Didn't she know what could happen?

"Well, come on." He said. "We'll come back tomorrow to take statements. They're no good right now."

Bunker nodded and followed his boss back towards the front of the hospital, glancing into each room in the process before they were clear of the ICU.

~!~

The beating on her door was expected, but the initial bang had surprised her. Cora already knew who was on the other side before opening the door, and wasn't shocked at all to find Bunker.

"Deputy," she greeted rather coldly.

Without a word, he barged passed her and into the room. Cora's face twisted in agitation.

"What the hell?" she snapped as she turned to face him.

"Really, Cora?" he shot back in the same voice. "I just got back from the hospital."

She crossed her arms over her chest, shifted her weight to one foot and eyed him indifferently.

"And?" she asked in a tone to match.

His brows came together tightly as he shook his head in disbelief.

"Seriously? What you did to those guys-"

"Was nothing short of what they deserved." She quickly interrupted.

"You butchered them."

"Like the animals they are."

"Goddamn it, Cora!" he yelled before calming himself once again. "You can't just go around doing this kind of shit. You scarred those guys for life."

"You're goddamn right I did." She nearly growled the words. "And every day, when they look in the fucking mirror, they'll remember what they did. They'll always remember how they fucked up, for the rest of their shit-filled lives."

"And what if they tell Calvin, huh?" he demanded. "The Brotherhood will come after you."

She scoffed.

"They won't say shit."

"How do you know?" he didn't believe her and she could tell. "I know those guys."

"Because I told them that if they said a fucking word to their buddies or the cops, I'd come back and cut more pieces off their bodies." She said darkly.

"This isn't a fucking game."

He was desperately trying to get her to understand, but she didn't seem willing. As a matter of fact, Cora seemed disturbingly calm.

"The fuck do you care, hm?" she shot back as she stepped forward to confront him. "I am nothing more than a burden to you, a piece of ass. I served my purpose, remember? The fuck do you care what happens to me now?"

Bunker ran his hands down his face in frustration. He shifted his weight before finally meeting her stare. He was so angry, he couldn't seem to get control of himself and it was coming out through as random, nervous movements.

"There was a reason I said that shit to you." he muttered.

"Because you're an asshole." She offered without a misstep.

"Because I was falling in love with you!" he snapped. Bunker didn't even realize what he said at first and continued his rant. "Jesus, I was trying to get you away from my bullshit. I had the whole Brotherhood up my ass, shit. They already beat the hell out of you. I was trying to keep you safe!"

Before she could stop herself, Cora lurched forward and shoved angrily at his shoulders. She still had the wherewithal to avoid his scars despite being so angry she hadn't even absorbed his words. She somehow didn't hear what he said.

"You were trying to keep me safe?" she demanded as she shoved him again. Bunker growled as he was forced to take another step back. "You didn't give a shit about me." She shoved him again. "So you don't," she pushed him again, "get," shove, "to give a shit," shove, "now!"

Unwilling to let her continue her assault, Bunker grabbed Cora by the wrists. He spun and quickly pushed her against the wall just to the right of the bed. He pressed himself against her to keep her from struggling and smashed his lips into hers without hesitation.

Cora was surprised by the action and reacted immediately because of it. The moment she felt his lips on hers, she shoved at his chest again. Bunker was forced back only a half-step and instantly closed the distance she'd created. He kissed her again and her struggling soon began to die. Within seconds, Cora found herself returning the sentiment. She kissed Bunker deeply and passionately whether she intended to or not. Her body seemed to be betraying her, giving in to desires she never got over.

She clutched at his uniform and pulled him as close to her body as she could. Bunker wrapped his arms around her body. He was so happy to have her again, to hold her. Bunker knew he'd missed her in the nearly two years, but he was so much more aware of the fact now that she was back.

Eventually, when air became thin, the pair slowly parted. Bunker breathed heavily as he rested his forehead against hers. There was something primal about his connection to Cora, something visceral. Maybe it was their shared shit lives, or the hell they'd gone through together -he didn't know- but whatever the reasons he missed her greatly in her time gone.

"I'm so sorry they hurt you." He said softly. Cora felt his voice vibrate through her again.

"I don't care about them." She took a breath and sighed, "I've missed you."

He didn't verbally respond. Instead, Bunker dipped down and kissed her again. Cora cooed at the contact. She felt the fires inside her begin to burn at nothing more than his lips on hers and it spurred her actions. Cora deepened the kiss, nipped tenderly at him before taking his bottom lip between her teeth as she pulled back.

Cora dipped forward and pressed her cheek to his.

"Fuck me," she whispered into his ear the moment before she bit it.

Bunker growled deeply within his throat. He felt her salacious words to his very soul and loved her for them, but thank God -or curse him- for a brief moment of clarity that jolted the young man out of the moment.

"I can't." he said as he stepped away from her. His voice sounded forced, like the words caused him physical pain, and the truth wasn't far off.

Cora eyed him curiously and his strange behavior. Bunker wouldn't meet her eye and instead turned his back briefly. She didn't realize he was adjusting himself to be more presentable before turning to face her again. He ran his hand down his lips and hesitantly met her eye.

"I can't do this again." He told her despondently.

"Why?"

"A lot's changed, Cora."

Her eyes narrowed.

"You're seeing someone."

"Yeah," he didn't sound happy by the fact. Instead, he sounded disappointed, which she thought strange. "It's kind of complicated."

"Okay," she muttered unsurely.

Awkward silence filled the space. Neither was entirely certain how to proceed since sex was clearly off the table. It was strange and both of them noticed.

"I should go." He finally said. Cora felt herself nodding without knowing why. "It was good seeing you again, Cora."

"Yeah," her voice was still relatively quiet. "You too."

With a nod of his own, Bunker turned and left. He was anxious, and not in the same way he'd been when he sought her out. Now, he was filled with unanswered desire and he knew of only one way to slate it.

~!~

Maggie rode Bunker with passion and enthusiasm, but he barely seemed to care. Yes, it felt good. Yes, sex of any kind was welcomed, but she wasn't what he thought about. He was too distracted to focus on the task at hand. That's why she took over. His heart wasn't into it.

The sound of a ringing phone helped divert their attention and eventually the tryst ended. Bunker held Maggie in his arms and played at a conversation until she forced him to listen. He couldn't believe what she said as he did. She told him to kill his brother. The words actually left her lips, and he was stunned by them.

How could someone say that to him? Sure, Calvin was a piece of shit, but the man was still his brother. Who would ask one man to kill his brother as casually as she had? And it was her husband, no less. Wasn't that something a psychopath did, or a narsacist?


End file.
